ADVENTURES 

WITH 

INDIANS 


[See  p.  107 

ALMOST     INSTANTLY     LAWSON     FIRED     UPWARD     AT 
RANDOM  " 


ADVENTURES;,; 

WITH     INDIANS 


BY 

PHILIP  V.  MIGHELS,  W.  O.  STODDARD 

MAJOR  G.  B.  DAVIS,  U.S.A. 

FRANCES  McELRATH 

AND  OTHERS 


NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON 
HARPER    &   BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 


I      .,   .     ,   ; 

'HARPER'S  ADVENTURE   SERIES 

•  J  I       I   «V«    £¥*»  Post  8vo»  Illustrated,  60  cents. 

Here  are  some  of  the  best  tales  of  adventure 
which  have  been  written  for  younger  readers  of 
recent  years.  These  stories  have  been  carefully 
selected  with  a  view  to  interest  and  wholesome 
excitement.  They  are  the  kind  of  stories  that 
hold  the  reader  fast  and  keep  him  wondering  as 
to  the  outcome.  They  also  convey  a  measure 
of  historical  and  general  information.  Each 
book  has  one  central  subject,  and  each  subject 
is  one  that  is  of  engrossing  interest  to  younger 
readers.  Some  of  these  books  are  as  follows: 

ADVENTURES  OF  UNCLE  SAM'S  SAILORS.  By 
COMMANDER  R.  E.  PEAKY,  U.  S.  N.f  MOLLY  ELLIOT  SEA- 
WELL,  KIRK  MUNROE,  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON,  CAPTAIN 
ALBION  V.  WADHAMS,  U.  S.  N.,  and  others. 

ADVENTURES  OF  UNCLE  SAM'S  SOLDIERS.  By  GEN. 
CHARLES  KING,  JOHN  HABBERTON,  CAPTAIN  CHARLES 
A.  CURTIS,  LIEUT.  CHARLES  D.  RHODES,  and  others. 

ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS.  By  PHILIP  V.  MIGHELS, 
W.  O.  STODDAKD,  MAJOR  G.  B.  DAVIS,  U.S.A.,  FRANCES 
MCELRATH,  and  others. 

ADVENTURES  OF  PIRATES  AND  SEA-ROVERS.  By 
HOWARD  PYLE,  REAR-ADMIRAL  JOHN  H.  UPSHUH,  PAUL 
HULL,  REGINALD  GOURLAY,  and  others. 

ADVENTURES  AT  SEA.  By  REAR-ADMIRAL  T.  H. 
STEVENS,  F.  H.  CONVERSE,  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON, 
and  others. 

ADVENTURES  IN  FIELD  AND  FOREST.  By  FRANK 
H.  SPEARMAN,  HAROLD  MARTIN,  F.  S.  PALMER,  WILLIAM 
DRYSDALE,  and  others. 


Copyright,  1908,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  January,  1908. 


CONTENTS 


i 

FOR  SALE:    A  WARRIOR 
A   Two-dollar  Indian 
BY  PHILIP  V.  MIGHELS 

II 

BUSTER  BILL 

The  Boy  Hero  of  the  Camp 

BY  MAY  COOPER 

III 

"PUNK"  ON  THE  RESERVATION 

How  a  Kiowa  Boy  Turned  "Paleface" 

BY  WILLIAM  O.  STODDARD 

IV 

ONE  LITTLE  INDIAN 

A  Story  of  the  Sioux 

BY  WILLIAM  O.  STODDARD 

V 

LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

The  Hero  of  an  Apache  Raid 

BY  MAJOR  G.  B.  DAVIS,  U.  S.  A. 

iii 


909905 


CONTENTS 

VI 

A  PLUCKY  YOUNG  TENDERFOOT 

Standing  off  the  "Red  Men" 

BY  PAUL  HULL 

VII 

ELK  AND  BLUEBIRD 

A  Cheyenne  Boy's  Revenge 

BY  FRANCES  MCELRATH 

VIII 

RALPH  WILTON'S  DESTINY 
The  Triumph  of  White  Light 

BY  FRANCES  MCELRATH 

• 

IX 

ONE  TOUCH  OF  NATURE 

A  Story  of  the  Senecas 

BY  G.  T.  FERRIS 

X 

A  HOME-RUN  IN  INDIANA 

A  Tale  of  the  Early  Indian  Days 

BY  GARRETT  NEWKIRK 

XI 

A  DOUBLE  AMBUSH 

A  Girl's  Adventure  with  the  Seminoles 

BY  GEORGE  H.  COOMER 

iv 


CONTENTS 

XII 

THE  WILL  OF  GOLDEN  HORN 

A  'Tale  of  the  Montagnais  in  Canada 

BY  WILLIAM  DRYSDALE 

XIII 

FISH  HAWK 

The  Story  of  a  Day  s  Fishing 
BY  E.  B.  KNERR 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"ALMOST  INSTANTLY  LAWSON  FIRED  UPWARD 

AT    RANDOM" Frontispiece 

'"THE  MOST  COMPLETE  SPECIMEN  OF  A  WILD 

BOY    YOU    EVER    SAW '  " Facing  p.      54 

THE  REPULSE  OF  THE  PRACTICAL  JOKERS  .  "  I2O 
"'DID  ANYTHING  BITE  YOU,  BLUEBIRD?'  HE 

SAID,  HOARSELY" 140 

MA-ZA-RI-TA  LED  THE  CHANT  AS  THEY 

ADVANCED  ABOUT  THE  PILLAR  ...  "  l66 
"HE  FELL  AT  STEPHEN'S  FEET,  MORTALLY 

WOUNDED"  192 

"'WELCOME  HOME,  GOLDEN  HORN!'  HIS 

UNCLE  SHOUTED" "  220 

AS  THE  SUN  WAS  RISING,  FISH-HAWK  PRAYED 

TO  WAKANDA 224 


INTRODUCTION 

JHE  wide  range  and  diversified  in 
terest  of  these  pictures  of  advent 
ures  with  Indians  give  this  book 
a  distinctive  character.  Of  thrill 
ing  struggles  for  life — in  which  the  wit  and 
courage  of  the  white  man  were  pitted  against 
the  cunning  and  fierce  instinct  of  the  red — 
there  is  no  lack;  and  the  dramatic  quality 
of  heroic  deeds,  like  Lawson's  fight  against 
the  Apaches,  will  absorb  the  attention  of 
every  reader.  But  there  are,  also,  stories 
full  of  humor,  like  Mr.  Mighel's  charming 
tale,  and  Mr.  Stoddard's  "Punk":  stories  of 
loyalty  and  devotion,  like  Miss  Cooper's 
touching  "Buster  Bill,"  and  historical  tales, 
like  "A  Home-run  in  Indiana,"  which  is  in 
itself  an  illustration  of  pioneer  life  in  the 
Middle  West.  A  newer  phase  of  Indian  life 
ix 


INTRODUCTION 

is  suggested  in  Miss  McElrath's  story  of 
the  aid  which  an  Indian  girl,  educated  at 
Carlisle,  brought  to  her  people — an  aid  more 
significant  than  the  prowess  of  the  warriors 
whom  Carlisle  sends  annually  to  the  football 
field. 

Not  only  in  subjects,  but  in  the  variety  of 
the  Indians,  who  play  their  parts  in  these 
pages,  the  range  of  this  book  is  exceptionally 
broad  and  informing.  The  Piutes,  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains ;  the  Apaches,  of  the  South 
west  ;  the  Kiowas,  who  once  ranged  through 
Kansas ;  the  warlike  Sioux,  who  overwhelmed 
Custer  by  force  of  numbers ;  the  brave  Chey- 
ennes,  of  the  great  plains;  and  the  Montag- 
nais,  of  Canada,  are  among  the  tribes  which 
pass  before  us,  while  in  the  tales  of  earlier 
history  which  close  the  book  we  meet  the 
Senecas,  of  the  Iroquois  days  in  New  York, 
and  the  Seminoles,  of  Florida. 

While  this  book  is  fiction  for  the  most 
part,  certain  of  the  stories,  like  "Lawson's 
Investment,"  are  largely  fact,  and  others 
are  founded  upon  actual  incidents.  In  these 
pages  may  be  found  not  only  stirring  tales 


INTRODUCTION 

of  ambush,  battle,  and  adventure,  but  also 
suggestive  glimpses  of  Indian  life  and  charac 
ter,  and  some  outline  of  the  varied  phases 
of  the  relations  of  white  men  and  red,  as  the 
former  have  pushed  onward  to  complete  the 
conquest  of  the  continent. 


ADVENTURES    WITH    INDIANS 


ADVENTURES   WITH 
INDIANS 

FOR    SALE:    A    WARRIOR 
A   'Two-dollar  Indian 

[HERE  were  seven  kinds  of  Indians 
at  the  back  of  the  largest  hotel 
of  the  Western  town — dirty  and 
dirtier,  which  is  two;  young  arid 
old,  which  is  four;  male  and  female,  making 
six;  and  one  little  clean  pappoose.  This 
latter  tiny  bit  of  aboriginal  humanity  was  a 
chubby,  round-faced,  bright-eyed  little  tike, 
with  the  blackest  of  hair  and  the  most  bronze 
of  complexions.  He  was  playing  around 
alone,  inside  a  close  high  board  fence  at  the 
rear  of  the  large  hotel,  his  only  shirt  cut  off 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 


at' the  'knees,  displaying  a  fat,  brownish  pair 
of :  dknpled  legs  .that  were  warm  enough  in 
spite  of  the  fact  of  their  bareness  in  the  chill 
ing  air. 

Presently  around  the  corner  came  a  trot 
ting,  smiling  Chinaman,  a  vender  of  vegeta 
bles.  A  long,  slender  pole,  carved  flat  and 
tapering  towards  the  ends,  was  balanced  on 
his  shoulder,  and  from  either  end,  suspended 
by  a  bridle  composed  of  four  strings,  hung  a 
huge  bamboo  basket. 

As  he  halted  within  the  gate  of  the  high 
board  fence  he  lightly  swung  the  receptacles 
to  earth,  rested  his  polished  pole  conveniently 
near,  lifted  a  mat  containing  the  day's  sup 
plies  for  the  cook  within,  and  carried  it  off 
to  the  kitchen. 

Now  it  not  very  strangely  befell  that  the 
vender  of  vegetables  lingered  a  time  in  the 
kitchen,  for  that  exceedingly  tempting  and 
savory  seat  of  government  was  under  the 
personal  direction  of  another  little  yellow 
man,  who  called  his  countryman  "Wong," 
and  gave  him  to  drink  of  tea.  While  the 
two  engaged  each  other  with  inharmonious 


FOR  SALE:  A  WARRIOR 

gutturals,  a  dusky  cranium  and  equally 
dusky  countenance  came  poking  out  from 
another  door.  Its  owner  was  the  negro 
porter,  a  grinning  fellow,  whose  mania  for 
jokes  of  the  "practical"  description  was 
developed  to  a  degree  positively  unhealthy. 
No  sooner  had  he  made  himself  certain  that 
the  yard  was  free  of  observers,  and  occupied 
alone  by  the  wee  pappoose,  than  he  stealthily 
slipped  from  his  place,  and  grabbed  the 
scared  little  fellow  by  the  tail  of  his  wholly 
inadequate  shirt. 

The  eyes  of  the  miniature  savage  were 
apparently  frozen  wide  open  in  an  instant, 
while  paralysis  made  him  utterly  stoical  and 
dumb.  The  Chinaman's  basket  had  a  shal 
low  tray  in  the  top  filled  with  beets;  then 
an  inside  receptacle,  also  shallow,  filled  with 
celery.  Below  this  last  were  cabbages,  down 
in  the  bottom.  These  extra  insides  the  negro 
quickly  lifted  out  with  his  unemployed  hand ; 
then  a  couple  of  the  cabbages,  as  large  to 
gether  as  the  wee  pappoose,  came  forth  with 
a  jerk.  In  a  second  more  the  silent  Indian 
baby  had  been  dropped  within  the  basket, 
3 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

the  various  trays  had  been  properly  replaced, 
and  the  darky  had  rapidly  hopped  through 
the  open  door  with  his  cabbages,  doubling 
himself  like  a  nut-cracker  and  stretching  his 
face  in  violent  but  silent  laughter. 

Out  came  Wong,  beaming  with  the  radi 
ance  of  tea  well  swallowed.     He  rearranged 


his   pole,   bent   his   stout   Mongolian   back, 

straightened  up,  lifting  his  baskets,  balanced 

them   neatly,    and   trotted   away   with    the 

frightened  baby  Indian,  but  quite  oblivious 

that  such  a  lively  vegetable  ever  was  grown. 

Wong  went  singing  up  the  street,  or  rather 

humming  away  about  a  "feast  of  lanterns," 

4 


FOR   SALE:   A  WARRIOR 

and  thinking  how  soon  he  would  be  enabled 
to  purchase  a  wagon. 

"Good-moiling,"  he  said,  as  he  stopped  at 
last  at  the  rear  of  one  of  the  most  imposing 
houses.  "Velly  fine  moiling." 

"Good -morning,  Wong.  It's  a  little  bit 
chilly,"  said  a  gray-haired  woman  wearing 
glasses,  rubbing  her  hands. 

"Oh  yeh,  him  feel  lill  bit  chilly." 

"What  you  got  this  morning?"  she  in 
quired. 

"Oh,  for  callot,  for  cell'ly — velly  nice  for 
cell'ly — for  turnip,  for  squash,  any  kine." 
Then,  as  she  hesitated,  "  Potatee  ? — for  ahple  ? 
— for  cabbagee?  Oh,  lots  um  good  kine,  I 
tink." 

She  took  a  squash.  "Did  you  say  cab 
bage,  Wong?" 

"Oh  yeh."  He  began  at  once  to  lift  the 
tray.  Next  he  hoisted  forth  the  shallow 
inside  basket  and  reached  for  a  cabbage. 

"Ki!  yi!"  he  yelled.     " Sumin-ah-got,  yu 

nee  mah!     Kow  long  hop  ti!     Ha!     What 

you  call  um?     Hi!  for  Injun  debbil!"     And 

he  lapsed  again  into  awful  Chinese  exclama- 

5 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

tion  points,  and  danced  a  fan-tan-dango  in  a 
wonderful  state  of  excitement.  "Hi!  What 
you  call  um?  Sumin-ah-got,  no  belong  for 
Wong!  Huh!"  Nerving  himself  for  the 


fearful  ordeal,  he  lifted  the  squirming  baby 
forth  and  dropped  it  quickly  to  the  ground. 
No  sooner  did  the  wild  little  thing  find  itself 
released  than  it  scrambled  to  its  feet  and  ran 
at  the  skirts  of  the  elderly  lady — the  only 
thing  it  recognized — and  clung  there  like  a 
prickly  burr. 

"Mercy!"    shrieked    the    lady.      "Mercy! 
Where —     Wong,   where   did   you    get    this 
child — this   savage   child?"  she   demanded. 
6 


FOR  SALE:   A  WARRIOR 

"  Sumin-ah-got,  no  sabbee,."  said  the  ter 
rified  Wong,  gathering  baskets  and  mats  in  a 
desperate  haste.  "  Plitty  click  for  whole  lots 
urn  for  Injun  come  for  nis  one.  Wong  no 
takee.  No  see  some  nis  one  for  baby  befloh. 
Somebody  makee  for  tlick — you  sabbee  ?— 
makee  velly  much  tlouble.  Kow  long  hop 
ti!  Yu  nee  man!" 

"But,  Wong,  you  must  take  it  back!  I 
don't  know  anything  about  the  trick!  I 
don't  want  the  Indians  coming  here.  Mercy !" 

Wong,  however,  had  rapidly  fixed  his  pole 
in  its  place,  and  swung  his  baskets  clear  of 
the  ground,  still  jabbering  wildly  in  his  native 
tongue,  and  trotted  away  with  a  double- 
quick  motion. 

"Wong!  Wong!"  called  the  agitated 
woman.  "I  can't  throw  him  away!  You 
must  take  him  back!  Wong!"  But  the 
vender  of  vegetables,  thoroughly  alarmed, 
had  fled. 

"  Did  yez  call,  Miss  Hoobart  ?"  said  a  voice 
from  the  door. 

"Oh, Maggie!  Oh, dear!  Oh!  Oh!  What 
shall  we  do?"  cried  the  woman.  She  was 
7 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

trying  to  shake  her  skirts  of  the  brown  little 
Indian,  but  he  merely  clung  the  harder,  and 
buried  his  face  in  the  folds. 

"  Ach,  wurra,  wurra !"  said  Maggie.  "  Phere 
did  yez  git  um?" 

"  It's  an  Indian  baby,  and  Wong  brought 
him — and  he  ran  away  frightened — and  some 
body  played  it  as  a  trick — and  the  wild,  infu 
riated  Indian  population  may  be  down  upon 
us  at  any  moment  to  recover  the  child!" 

"Ach!"  screamed  the  girl,  jumping  high 
in  the  air  and  glancing  quickly  about.  "  Phy 
don't  yez  1'ave  um  in  the  sthrate,  the  turrible 
varmint?" 

"  What,  a  tiny  child,  Maggie  ?  Suppose  it 
should  freeze  to  death  ?  It  hasn't  any  cloth- 


FOR  SALE:   A  WARRIOR 

ing  to  speak  of .  Oh,  dear!  I  do  wish  Charles 
were  home!" 

"  Phat  yez  goin'  to  do?"  whispered  Maggie. 

"  I  don't  know.  Oh,  I  don't  know!  We've 
got  to  take  him  in,  I  suppose,  and  wait  for 
Charles."  Accordingly  she  walked  very  gin 
gerly  in,  while  the  very  diminutive  savage 
continued  to  cling  to  the  dress  and  hide  his 
face.  "I  don't  see,"  she  said,  breathing 
easier  when  the  door  was  closed,  "how 
I'm  going  to  get  him  away  from  my  skirt. 
Don't  you  think  you  could  take  him  away, 
Maggie?" 

"Oi  wudden'  touch  um  for  tin  dollars!" 
cried  the  girl. 

"What  shall  we  do?  He  will  never  let 
go." 

"  Yez  c'u'd  1'ave  um  the  skirt — take  ut  aff, 
an*  put  an  anither  wan,  ye  moind." 

"Yes,  I  can;  that  is  just  the  thing."  She 
slipped  the  outside  garment  in  a  jiffy,  and 
the  baby  sat  down  on  the  floor  in  the  midst 
of  the  pile. 

The  warrior  sat  perfectly  still,  his  big  brown 
eyes  and  his  wee  red  mouth  wide  open,  his 
9 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

chubby  hands  playing  at  random  with  the 
skirt. 

"Oi  moight  go  out  an'  infarm  Misther 
Patrick  Murphy,  the  gintleman  policemen, 
mum,"  ventured  Maggie  at  length. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  go  and  leave  me  an 
instant,"  said  the  woman.  "There  is  noth 
ing  in  the  whole  wide  world  to  do  but  to 
watch  him  every  minute  and  lock  all  the 
doors  and  wait  for  Charles.  Oh,  dear!  that 
I  should  live  to  see  such  a  terrible  day!" 

So  the  barricades  were  placed  on  the  doors, 
and  the  women  brought  their  chairs  to  sit 
and  watch  their  very  unwelcome  prisoner. 
As  the  day  grew  old  it  occurred  to  the  lady 
that  perhaps  the  child  was  hungry.  She 
prepared  a  piece  of  bread  with  molasses,  and 
handed  it  out  with  the  tongs.  With  this  the 
child  emulated  his  parents,  for  he  painted  his 
face  from  chin  to  eyes.  This  continued  till 
the  curtain  lashes  of  the  bright  brown  eyes 
came  drooping  down;  his  chubby  little  face, 
with  molasses  .adornment,  sank  slowly  to 
rest  on  the  skirt.  The  women  continued  to 
watch. 

10 


FOR   SALE:    A  WARRIOR 


As  the  evening  came  on  Miss  Hobart  paced 
the  room  impatiently.  " Charles!  Charles, 
my  brother!"  she  would  say,  "why  don't 
you  come  ?  You  ought  to  know  what  a  ter 
rible,  terrible  trial  it  is!" 

But  the  sound  of  his  knock  on  the  door, 
when  he  came  at  his  usual  time,  nearly  made 
the  women  faint.  A  thin  little  man  was 
Mr.  Hobart,  but  sensible,  and  not  to  be 
alarmed.  He  declared  that  the  morning 
would  be  time  enough  in  which  to  clear  the 
matter  up. 

"Oh,  but  it  won't,"  said  his  elderly  sister. 
"Suppose  there  should  be 
a  night  attack  ?  They  are 
very,  very  frequent  —  it's 
the  Indian  way  of  proceed 
ing!" 

"Well, "said  he,  "I'll  go 
and  tell  the  sheriff.  He 
can  hunt  the  parents  up 
and  settle  the  whole  thing 
in  a  minute." 

"But,"    she   protested,    "the   Indians   are 
gone  to  their  tents — campoodies — out  in  the 
ii 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

sage-brush  long  before  this — that  is,  provid 
ing  they  are  not  lurking  around  this  neigh 
borhood.  And  just  fancy  a  poor  mother 
deprived  of  her  child  all  night!" 

"Well,  what  shall  I  do?" 

"Suppose  —  suppose  you  take  a  lantern 
and  go  out  to  the  wigwams.  You  are  not 
afraid?" 

"No,  of  course  I'm  not;  but  what's  the 
use?" 

In  the  end  he  found  himself  muffled,  mit- 
tened,  provided  with  the  lantern,  packing  the 
child — all  wrapped  in  a  blanket  and  fastened 
loosely  in  with  a  shawl-strap — out  in  the  sage 
brush,  floundering  aimlessly  about  in  search 
of  the  Indian  campoodies.  Mile  after  mile 
he  trudged  about  in  the  night,  shifting  baby 
and  lantern  from  hand  to  hand  as  his  arms 
grew  weary,  and  growing  more  and  more  dis 
gusted  as  it  dawned  on  his  mind  that  all  he 
knew  of  the  way  to  find  campoodies  was  to 
wander  towards  the  west  in  the  brush.  He 
shouldered  the  sleeping  warrior  and  made 
some  lively  tracks  for  home. 

"There,"  said  he,  as  he  tossed  the  wee 

12 


FOR  SALE:  A  WARRIOR 

pappoose,  blanket  and  all,  on  the  lounge, 
"  you  can  leave  it  to  snooze  where  you  please, 
for  I  am  going  right  straight  to  bed." 

His  sister  sat  in  a  chair  all  night,  dressed, 
and  she  waked  a  hundred  times  from  a  dream 
of  hideous  Indian  depredations.  She  was 
wearily  sleeping  when  her  brother  ate  his 
breakfast  and  went.  An  hour  later  the  head 
of  an  old  and  softly  whistling  Indian  appeared 
at  the  open  window. 

" Ketchum  pappoose?"  said  this  awful 
warrior,  and  his  voice  was  barely  audible. 
She  whirled  around,  saw  the  face,  tried  to 
scream,  and  failed. 

"Injun  Jim  h-e-a-p  sick,"  drawled  the 
chieftain,  who  had  satisfied  himself  that  his 
son  and  heir  was  present,  the  youngster  be 
ing  seated  on  the  floor — "h-e-a-p  sick,  heap 
likum  biscuit-lah-pooh . ' ' 

Miss  Hobart  rallied.  "Perhaps,"  she 
thought,  "Charles  has  pacified  the  tribe." 
Then  she  said,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Indian  Jim — James, 
is  this  your  son — your  little  boy?" 

"Yesh,  h-e-a-p  my  boy.     Injun  Jim  heap 
likum  biscuit-lah-pooh,  h-e-a-p  sick." 
13 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"  Are  you  sick  ?     Poor  man !  you  shall  have 
all  the  biscuit  you  want.     Here,"  she  said,  in 
a  timid  voice,    as   he  tucked 
away  a  package  of  food,   "is 


your  son — your  nice  little  boy  —  very  nice 
little  boy;  and  I'm  very  sorry — " 

"Yesh,  h-e-a-p  nice — all  same  Injun  Jim. 
You  like  buy  um  ?  Two  dollar  hap,  you  buy 
um,  h-e-a-p  goot!" 

"Mercy!  Oh,  oh!"  she  gasped.  "He  would 
sell  it!  Two  dollars  and  a  half — and  after 
such  a  night!  Oh  no — no,  Jim — James — 
take  him  to  his  yearning  mother,  please!" 

As  the  warrior  slowly  shuffled  away  to  the 
gate,  leading  his  son  and  heir  by  the  hand, 
14 


FOR  SALE:  A  WARRIOR 

the  bright  little  face  was  turned  towards  the 
woman  who  was  standing  in  the  door. 

"It  is  a  beautiful  child,"   she  said.     "I 
wish  I  had  noticed  before." 


BUSTER     BILL 

The    Boy    Hero    of    the    Camp 

I 
THE    HERO    OF   GOLD    RUN 

fECKON  it  ain't  no  use.  Nobody 
like  me  could  do  it,  nohow.  I 
reckon  I'll  just  ha  veto  give  it  up." 
Whatever  it  might  be,  the  idea 
of  giving  it  up  troubled  him  deeply,  and  he 
thrust  his  fat,  brown  hands  into  his  thick  mop 
of  yellow  curls  in  a  very  serious  way  as  he  sat 
on  the  quartz  ledge  on  the  hill  above  the  gulch. 
Buster  Bill  was  one  of  the  pioneers  of  Gold 
Run,  and  he  had  been  a  successful  miner, 
all  things  considered,  but  his  wardrobe  was 
as  far  away  from  received  ideas  of  style  as 
was  his  grammar.  His  dimpled  knees  were 
smiling  out  through  the  openings  in  Paddy 
Noonan's  discarded  overalls,  and  these  were 
16 


BUSTER   BILL 

as  nearly  a  fit  as  was  Keno  Dick's  cast-off 
"jumper,"  forty  inches  around  the  waist,  or 
even  the  sombrero  which  Dick  had  thrown 
away  for  fear  of  being  seen  with  it  on  by — 
Well,  that  is  where  Buster  Bill's  present  dif 
ficulty  came  upon  him. 

When  the  first  rich  claim  at  Gold  Run  had 
been  struck,  and  the  news  of  it  came  down 
from  the  mountains  in  the  quick,  mysterious 
way  peculiar  to  such  news,  the  rush  to  the 
diggings  was  accompanied,  for  a  rarity,  by  a 
woman.  She  was  a  "widdy- woman,"  and 
with  her  was  a  child,  and  the  child  was 
Buster  Bill,  and  he  became  the  idol  of  the 
camp.  He  was  a  fat,  freckled,  jolly,  happy- 
go-lucky  little  fellow,  coming  and  going  at 
his  own  will,  and  when  he  failed  to  be  seen 
of  a  morning  making  his  round  of  inspection 
among  the  claims,  something  like  a  committee 
of  investigation  might  be  expected  to  call  at 
his  mother's  cabin.  At  first  he  had  a  small 
claim  of  his  own,  and  had  worked  it.  He  had 
even  panned  out  a  small  pinch  of  dust,  to  the 
boundless  admiration  of  the  older  miners,  but 
inspection  duty  suited  his  tastes  better  than 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

mere  gulch  digging.  At  the  end  of  a  few 
weeks  he  turned  over  his  claim  to  his  friend 
Keno  Dick,  with  an  imposing  ceremonial  in 
which  the  entire  camp  participated. 

Buster  Bill  was  on  intimate  terms  with 
every  man  along  Gold  Run,  thereby  securing 
for  his  mother  a  monopoly  of  the  washing  for 
that  part  of  the  sierra;  but  there  was  no 
other  friend  so  near  as  Dick.  If  Buster  Bill 
forgot  to  bring  his  mother  the  box  of  starch 
for  which  she  was  waiting,  or  if  the  bar  of 
soap  had  slipped  from  his  pocket  and  down 
some  shaft  he  had  inspected,  it  was  Keno 
Dick  who  stood  in  the  door  of  the  cabin  as  a 
wall  of  defence  against  the  female  avenger, 
while  Buster  Bill  dashed  under  his  arm  and 
escaped.  To  Dick  he  had  gone  in  every 
extremity  and  with  every  problem  of  his 
young  existence.  Dick  had  sympathized 
with  all  his  sorrows  and  rejoiced  in  all  his 
joys,  and  the  Buster  would  have  laid  down 
his  life  for  his  friend. 

He  almost  succeeded  in  doing  so  at  last. 
Dick  was  absent  in  an  hour  of  need,  and  the 
Buster  fled  from  the  hand  of  female  ven- 
18 


BUSTER   BILL 

geance  to  hide  in  a  deserted  pocket-mine  on 
the  hill.  While  so  concealed  he  overheard 
two  Mexicans  plotting  the  plunder  of  Dick's 
cabin.  He  knew  where  the  yellow  and  heavy 
harvest  of  that  honest  miner's  industry  was 
secreted,  and  he  determined  to  rescue  it. 
The  measures  he  adopted  for  that  purpose 
were  entirely  original,  and  called  for  no  out 
side  help.  He  rescued  the  gold  alone,  but  it 
was  heavy  for  him,  and  he  tumbled  to  the 
very  bottom  of  the  gulch.  There  Dick  found 
him,  when  he  returned  next  morning,  full 
of  glory  over  his  friend's  treasure,  but  with 
one  arm  broken  and  his  small  body  covered 
with  bruises.  Buster  Bill  was  more  than 
ever  the  hero  of  Gold  Run,  but  Keno  Dick's 
absence  had  been  caused  by  what  he  called  a 
"  prospectin'  tower."  The  results  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  build  an  addition  to  his 
cabin,  and  to  furnish  it  in  a  style  befitting 
a  higher  order  of  being,  for  Gold  Run  was 
about  to  have  "  one  more  female  population." 
Bessie  Worth,  the  belle  of  Georgetown,  had 
consented  to  rule  Dick's  cabin  as  soon  as  it 
could  be  made  ready  for  her. 
19 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

The  news  was  told  to  Buster  Bill,  but  he 
did  not  quite  master  the  meaning  of  it  so  long 
as  he  was  an  invalid.  As  soon,  however,  as 
he  could  be  carried  to  Georgetown  he  was 
taken  there  on  a  visit  to  Miss  Bessie,  and  she 
had  received  him  as  the  hero  of  Gold  Run 
and  of  the  burglary.  She  and  Dick  worried 
him  into  a  suit  of  store  clothes,  and  had  his 
hair  cut  and  brushed,  and  when  he  looked 
into  a  mirror  he  felt  that  he  was  a  stranger. 
The  agony  of  the  clothes  and  shoes  had  been 
bravely  endured,  but  he  felt  that  the  world 
had  changed  wonderfully  since  he  tumbled 
into  the  gulch.  He  had  received  a  terrible 
amount  of  attention,  with  hugging  and  kiss 
ing  to  which  he  was  unaccustomed;  but  all 
that  was  nothing  compared  to  the  baths  to 
which  he  had  been  forced  to  submit.  His 
bruises  were  all  cured,  but  his  arm  was  weak 
yet,  and  the  doctor  told  him  it  would  be  some 
time  before  he  would  be  a  man  again.  When 
he  repeated  that  to  Dick  and  Bessie,  he  won 
dered  what  they  saw  in  it  to  laugh  at. 

Buster  Bill  had  now  returned  from  a  three 
days'  visit  in  Georgetown,  and  had  brought 

20 


BUSTER  BILL 

back  with  him  an  entirely  new  idea  of  what 
was  coming.  A  man  like  him  could  not  do 
any  thinking  worth  a  cent  in  store  clothes, 
and  as  soon  as  he  was  once  more  comfortable 
in  Dick's  old  jumper  and  Paddy  Noonan's 
overalls  he  went  out  on  the  hill  and  sat  down 
to  consider  the  matter.  He  rested  his  chin 
on  his  hands,  except  when  he  seemed  to  be 
feeling  for  the  yellow  topknot  which  had 
been  trimmed  away,  and  he  gazed  mourn 
fully  into  a  neighboring  bit  of  chaparral  bush. 
He  saw  how  it  was.  There  was  more  in  being 
grown  up  than  he  had  ever  dreamed  of. 
Here  was  Keno  Dick  going  to  bring  Bessie  to 
Gold  Run,  and  fitting  up  a  gorgeous  palace 
for  her  reception.  Then — for  she  had  told 
him  so — she  was  going  to  teach  him  how  to 
read  and  write.  It  made  him  squirm  to 
think  of  that,  and  he  almost  groaned  aloud. 
He  knew  enough  about  writing  to  know 
what  an  awful  thing  it  must  be  to  learn  how 
to  do  it.  He  would  have  it  to  do  if  she  said 
so,  for  even  Keno  Dick,  as  Buster  Bill  had 
noticed,  was  entirely  obedient  to  Bessie. 
She  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  Bill  had 

21 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

ever  seen,  but  then  he  had  seen  no  other 
woman  except  his  own  mother  and  a  few 
squaws,  and  his  ideas  of  perfection  may  have 
been  limited.  He  was  sure  she  was  beautiful, 
and  he  was  not  alone  in  that  opinion,  for 
there  was  great  depression  in  Georgetown, 
and  a  bitter  feeling  against  Keno  Dick  for 
taking  away  its  brightest  ornament. 

Gold  Run  was  correspondingly  elated,  and 
its  prominent  citizens  prepared  to  lay  them 
selves  out  to  beat  Georgetown  all  hollow 
in  the  matter  of  wedding-presents.  Buster 
Bill  had  heard  them  discuss  the  whole  thing, 
and  it  was  the  heaviest  burden  upon  his 
mind  as  he  sat  there  on  the  hill.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  that  less  might  be  expected 
from  a  boy  of  eight  than  from  some  of  the 
other  Gold  Run  miners,  and  he  exclaimed: 
"It's  no  use.  I  can't  do  it,  nohow.  Well, 
anyway!" 

He  stopped  there,  anchored  in  the  middle 
of  his  ocean  of  jumper  and  overalls,  for  the 
wedding  -  present  question  overcame  him. 
Neither  he  nor  any  other  man  on  Gold  Run 
had  stirred  it  up  when  his  own  mother,  the 
22 


BUSTER  BILL 

avenger,  while  he  was  absent  in  Georgetown, 
married  Paddy  Noonan,  and  went  away  to 
live  in  Paddy's  cabin  by  the  flume.  He  did 
not  feel  like  going  to  consult  her  now.  In 
fact  she  seemed  in  a  manner  to  have  deserted 
him  since  she  had  become  Mrs.  Noonan. 
He  was  alone  in  the  wide,  wide  world,  and 
was  going  to  be  until  after  the  wedding;  and 
again  he  said,  "Well,  anyway!" 

He  jumped  up  suddenly  then,  for  it  was 
very  much  as  if  a  deep,  sympathizing  groan 
answered  him,  and  he  looked  around  for  the 
source  of  it. 

"That  you,  Squawky?"  he  said  to  an  un 
gainly  shape  that  shambled  forward  to  sit 
down  upon  a  bowlder.  "What  you  come 
here  for?" 

No  voice  replied,  but  instead  of  sounds  were 
a  number  of  expressive  signs  and  gestures 
which  tried  to  tell  of  a  heart  too  full  of  woe 
for  utterance.  Squawky  was  a  Digger  Ind 
ian,  a  well-known  character  of  that  neigh 
borhood,  and  his  flat  and  shining  face  and  all 
about  him  had  the  peculiarly  unwashed  and 
worthless  look  belonging  to  his  tribe.  His 
23 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

mind  was  naturally  gloomy,  perhaps ;  but  no 
common  melancholy  was  upon  him  now. 
Buster  Bill  almost  forgot  his  own  trouble  in 
looking  at  a  human  being  who  felt  so  badly, 
and  Squawky  was  glad  of  even  so  small  a 
member  of  the  superior  race  to  whom  to  tell 
his  mournful  story.  It  came  out  piece  by 
piece,  for  although  he  knew  many  English 
words,  it  was  beyond  his  power  to  speak  more 
than  two  of  them  in  one  utterance. 

It  was  a  not  uncommon  tale.  Squawky 
had  a  camp,  and  he  kept  his  treasure  there. 
Last  night,  in  his  absence,  some  wicked  per 
son  had  intruded,  and  had  plundered;  and 
Squawky  now  explained,  with  most  expres 
sive  pantomime,  how  he  on  his  return  had 
searched  through  every  nook  and  cranny 
and  crack  and  hollow  for  the  good  things 
gone.  "Heap  gone!"  he  moaned,  as  he  sat 
and  hugged  his  knees  and  rocked  his  body 
to  and  fro. 

Buster  Bill  could  not  help  feeling  for  grief 

so  deep  as  that.     He  put  his  small  fat  hands 

upon  the  small  fat  knees  which  were  once 

more  free  to  look  out  through  the  openings 

24 


BUSTER  BILL 

in  the  overalls,  and  he  stared  thoughtfully  at 
the  prospect.  There  was  enough  that  might 
fairly  be  called  picturesque  before  him. 

Down  in  the  gulch  the  miners  were  laugh 
ing  and  joking  while  they  washed  out  the 
last  pan  of  Gold  Run's  contribution  to  the 
wedding-present.  Across,  upon  the  opposite 
hill-side,  almost  on  a  line  with  Buster  Bill,  a 
jack-rabbit  scurried  along,  and  he  caught 
up  a  stone  instinctively,  but  dropped  it 
again  when  he  remembered  the  real  distance 
between  him  and  the  rabbit.  The  latter  dis 
appeared  at  that  moment  with  a  very  pe 
culiar  jerk,  and  not  in  the  ordinary  manner 
of  the  disappearance  of  jack-rabbits.  The 
stone  picked  up  and  dropped  by  Bill  fell  upon 
the  toes  of  Squawky,  and  was  heavy  enough 
to  divert  his  mind  from  his  woes  for  a  mo 
ment. 

There  were  thoughts  at  work  all  the  while 
in  the  mind  of  the  Buster,  and  his  face  was 
taking  on  an  owlish  look  of  wisdom. 

"Squawky,"  he  asked,  "what  was  all  the 
things  you  had  took?" 

"Monday  night,"  he  said — for  there  had 
25 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

been  a  succession  of  thefts — "  one  bag  pine- 
nuts;  Wednesday  night,  blanket;  Thursday 
night,  big  bologna  they  gave  me  at  store; 
last  night,  bottle  and  tin  pan." 

"Tin  pan!"  shouted  the  Buster.  And  to 
Squawky's  astonishment  he  stood  up  and 
laughed  about  it,  and  added  a  whoop  that 
seemed  to  be  full  of  joyful  satisfaction.  It 
was  remarkable  conduct,  and  Squawky's 
feelings  were  hurt  by  it.  He  stared  dully  for 
a  moment  at  his  small  white  friend,  to  whom 
he  had  confided  his  woes,  but  who  now  ap 
peared  to  deride  them  and  him.  He  arose 
then  with  solemn  dignity,  remarking:  "  Heap 
gone.  Injun  sorry.  Tell  boy.  Boy  laugh. 
Heap  bad."  He  shook  his  head  mournfully 
as  he  strode  away  down  the  hill,  but  Buster 
Bill  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  him. 
There  was  not  room  in  his  mind  for  a  Digger 
Indian  and  a  new  thought  at  the  same  time, 
and  Bill  had  struck  a  lead.  Squawky  went 
on  out  of  sight,  and  it  was  only  a  minute  be 
fore  Bill  sprang  away  across  the  hill  in  what 
seemed  as  great  a  hurry  as  that  of  the  jack- 
rabbit  had  been. 

26 


BUSTER   BILL 

Around  the  bend  of  the  declivity  was  the 
last  claim  taken  up  on  Gold  Run.  It  was  a 
little  separated  from  the  rest  by  the  hill,  and 
by  being  down  deep  in  the  gulch.  It  had 
been  taken  up  by  a  Mexican  named  Vegas, 
but  he  was  now  a  fugitive  from  the  hasty 
hands  of  miners'  justice.  He  and  another 
Mexican  had  robbed  Mike  Dorsey's  cabin  six 
weeks  ago,  and  the  citizens  of  Gold  Run  had 
held  a  meeting,  and  had  offered  a  reward  of 
one  hundred  dollars  for  their  capture. 

Buster  Bill  knew  all  about  the  burglary 
and  the  reward.  He  now  stood  for  a  moment 
upon  a  quartz  rock  and  took  a  careful  survey 
of  the  Vegas  claim. 

He  then  skipped  away,  on  down,  until  he 
came  to  the  gold- washing  "  cradle,"  which 
was  supposed  to  be  abandoned  so  long  ago. 
His  bare  feet  slipped  in  the  wet  and  slushy 
ground  under  that  cradle,  and  when  he  shook 
it  more  water  came  trickling  from  it.  He 
knew  that  it  had  not  been  drying  for  six 
weeks  under  the  burning  sun  of  California. 
He  had  done  all  his  thinking,  and  now  he 
needed  Squawky.  He  made  his  way  first 
27 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

to  the  half-burrow  of  a  camp,  but  the  Indian 
was  not  there.  Bill  knew  that  he  had  not 
gone  to  the  gulch  to  be  tormented  by  the 
jolly  miners,  and  so  he  hunted  on  through 
that  deeply  furrowed  neighborhood.  He 
hunted  successfully,  for  not  far  away,  curled 
up  in  the  retirement  of  a  deep  hollow,  and 
sound  asleep,  lay  the  plundered  Digger. 

Buster  Bill  gave  the  sleeper  one  hard 
punch,  and  the  only  sign  of  life  was  a  twist 
of  the  face;  another  punch  drew  a  disturbed 
grunt;  but  a  third  forced  Squawky  to  open 
his  eyes. 

"What  you  layin'  here  for,  Squawky?" 
inquired  Bill. 

"Injun  die.  Losum  all.  Heap  gone," 
groaned  Squawky.  But  he  settled  himself 
into  the  hollow  once  more  and  closed  his 
eyes. 

Then  the  truth  flashed  upon  Buster  Bill. 
There  at  the  side  of  the  Indian  were  his 
cooking  utensils;  his  knife  was  in  his  belt; 
he  was  weary  of  a  world  where  Mexicans 
came  and  stole  all  a  poor  Digger  had;  and 
he  had  determined  to  die  and  go  to  the 
28 


BUSTER  BILL 

"  Happy  Hunting-grounds."  He  opened  his 
eyes  once  more  to  remark:  "Bad  boy.  In 
jun  sorry.  Heap  gone.  Boy  glad." 

That  was  it.  Injured  feelings  had  added 
much  to  the  despair  occasioned  by  losses, 
and  Buster  Bill  had  hard  work  to  convince 
his  red  neighbor  that  he  had  only  laughed  at 
a  jolly  idea  of  getting  back  the  tin  pan, 
blanket,  bottle,  and  as  much  pine-nuts  and 
bologna  as  might  remain  uneaten.  Squawky 
awoke  fully  and  arose  to  his  feet  as  that 
thought  dawned  upon  him. 

"Findum?"  he  gasped.  "Bill  know? 
Ketchum  ?  Keepum  ?  Hoi !' ' 

It  was  strange  that  he  should  have  so 
blind  a  faith  in  so  small  a  white  boy;  but  he 
looked  into  Buster  Bill's  honest  blue  eyes, 
and  believed  that  the  lost  goods  were  coming 
back.  So  did  Bill,  and  he  toiled  hard  with 
words  and  signs  to  make  Squawky  under 
stand  a  brilliant  plan  he  was  forming.  It 
began  with  the  too  sudden  disappearance  of 
the  jack-rabbit  on  the  opposite  hill-side. 

"He  was  helped  with  a  string,"  said  Bill, 
indicating  a  noose-trap;  and  adding  a  de- 
29 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

scription  of  the  state  of  things  at  the  Vegas 
claim,  he  declared,  "  It  was  worked  sence 
yesterday." 

"Hoi!"  remarked  Squawky,  with  vigor. 

It  was  sunset  and  supper-time  before 
Buster  Bill  was  seen  in  camp,  and  after  sup 
per  his  best  friends  were  not  able  to  detain 
him  anywhere  in  particular.  By  the  time 
the  moon  was  well  up  he  was  out  among  the 
rocks,  looking  around  for  a  dark  figure  which 
crouched  low  and  waited  for  him. 

"Hoi!" 

"  Did  you  steal  the  rope  and  gun,  Squawky  ?" 

A  deep  grunt  of  assent  responded,  and 
Buster  Bill  himself  exhibited  a  revolver  he 
had  borrowed  without  asking  leave  of  his 
friend  the  owner. 

"It's  a  beautiful  shooter,"  he  said;  and 
they  quietly  stole  away  farther  and  farther 
from  the  camp,  keeping  as  much  as  possible 
in  the  deepest  shadows.  They  were  in  little 
danger  of  meeting  any  of  "the  boys,"  how 
ever,  for  these  were  all  at  the  hotel,  holding 
a  public  meeting  over  the  approaching  wed 
ding  and  other  important  matters. 
30 


BUSTER   BILL 

Up  and  over  the  hill  went  Buster  Bill  and 
Squawky,  worrying  through  chaparral,  creep 
ing  among  trees  and  rocks,  until  they  worked 
around  the  bend  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
hardly  breathing  for  fear  of  giving  an  alarm. 

The  moonlight  fell  brilliantly  among  the 
broken  quartz  and  the  bushes  of  the  oppo 
site  slope,  and  brought  out  into  full  relief 
every  rock  in  the  lower  claim.  Every  rock 
— and  the  cradle!  Yes,  the  lower  claim  was 
being  worked.  Two  men  were  working  it 
for  all  it  was  worth.  One  of  them  was  rock 
ing  the  cradle  now.  He  held  his  face  close 
down  to  it  as  he  smilingly  watched  his  work. 
The  other  man  was  shaking  something,  shak 
ing  it  hard  and  diligently,  and  pouring  the 
water  from  it  around  underfoot  anywhere — 
shaking  the  lost  tin  pan  of  Squawky. 

The  man  at  the  cradle  tossed  off  his  hat 
and  held  up  his  face  to  the  moon.  It  was 
Vegas,  the  robber.  One  hundred  dollars 
reward  for  him,  dead  or  alive.  There  was 
a  lesson  of  human  folly  in  his  being  there. 
He  was  known  to  be  a  coward  as  well  as  a 
manslayer  and  a  thief,  but  even  with  the 
3  31 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

avengers  upon  his  trail,  the  love  of  gold 
had  mastered  his  cowardice  and  brought  him 
back  to  work  his  claim  at  night.  It  was  the 
same  greed  which  had  led  him  to  steal,  and 
so  had  shut  him  off  from  honestly  working 
it  in  open  day.  It  had  compelled  him  to 
lurk  among  the  hills  by  day,  living  on  jack- 
rabbits  and  pine -nuts.  Here  he  was  now 
with  his  companion,  washing  out  their  gold 
with  cradle  and  pan,  murmuring  low  to  each 
other  of  weights  and  of  values.  When  they 
rose  to  stretch  their  limbs  and  look  around 
them,  all  the  shadows  seemed  like  enemies, 
and  the  bark  of  a  coyote  in  the  distance  made 
the  unnamed  one  of  them  drop  a  pan  of  fresh 
dirt.  He  was  jeered  at  softly  by  Vegas,  and 
silently  picked  up  his  pan  and  went  back  for 
more.  He  favored  the  small  plan  of  Buster 
Bill  by  deciding  to  try  a  wash  of  the  dirt  near 
where  the  watchers  now  lay  behind  a  bowlder, 
but  his  decision  drew  forth  words  of  yet  more 
bitter  derision  from  Vegas.  They  were  fit 
companions,  for  when  he  with  the  pan  came 
towards  the  bowlder,  it  was  plain  that  the 
taunts  had  stirred  the  tiger  in  him.  He 
32 


BUSTER  BILL 

pulled  a  knife  from  his  boot  and  felt  of  its 
edge.  It  was  so  sharp  and  it  glittered  so  in 
the  moonlight  that  he  lifted  his  head  and 
smiled.  He  smiled  right  into  the  muzzle  of 
the  "beautiful  shooter"  that  Buster  Bill  had 
borrowed,  and  he  was  astonished  by  a  com 
mand  to  "drop  it!" 

That  meant  his  knife,  and  the  voice  was 
very  small  to  be  obeyed. 

"Drop  it!"  said  Buster  Bill  again,  and  the 
man  saw  that  the  revolver  at  least  was  full 
grown,  and  so  the  knife  fell  upon  the  gravel. 
As  it  did  so,  the  tall,  dark  form  of  Squawky 
glided  forward,  and  he  made  swift,  skilful 
work  with  the  rope. 

That  Mexican  was  tied  up  tight,  and  the 
job  was  hardly  completed  before  the  other 
Mexican  at  the  cradle  was  suddenly  astonished . 

"  Vegas,"  he  heard, "  chuck  up  your  hands." 

He  was  aghast,  he  was  furious,  but  there 
was  Buster  Bill  and  the  revolver,  and  he  was 
a  coward.  He  put  up  his  hands,  and  when 
he  was  ordered  to  "come  on,"  he  went,  ex 
pressing  his  feelings  in  Mexican  Spanish, 
until,  around  the  corner  of  the  bowlder,  he 
33 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

reached  the  spot  where  his  partner  lay,  with 
Squawky  and  his  gun  keeping  guard.  Vegas 
was  tied  as  securely,  and  then  Bill  took  the 
post  of  sentinel. 

"Squawky,"  he  said,  "you  go  to  the  camp 
and  git  the  boys  to  come." 

The  Indian  believed  more  perfectly  in  his 
young  leader  from  the  fact  that  his  bottle 
and  his  blanket  and  his  pan  had  been  re 
covered,  and  that  he  had  won  a  new  knife. 
He  made  his  way  to  the  camp  at  once,  and 
did  his  best  to  explain  the  situation.  He 
did  not  quite  succeed,  but  there  was  a  gen 
eral  declaration  of  "Well,  boys,  if  anything's 
going  wrong  with  the  Buster,  it's  our  business 
to  go  and  see  about  it." 

There  was  a  procession  long  enough  to 
witness  to  the  interest  taken  in  him  by  all 
Gold  Run,  and  it  marched  pretty  steadily, 
piloted  by  Squawky,  until  it  came  out  in  full 
view  of  that  bowlder  above  the  Vegas  claim. 
Then  all  those  miners  sat  down,  each  man 
upon  any  rock  or  stump  convenient,  or  on 
the  ground,  and  they  all  hurrahed  and  shout 
ed  till  the  coyotes  on  the  hill-side  answered 
34 


BUSTER  BILL 

them.  It  was  great,  and  they  said  so  in  all  the 
ways  they  could  think  of.  As  Mike  Dorsey  put 
it,  "  That  there  little  kid  has  cabbaged  my  six- 
shooter  and  stood  up  the  biggest  feller  in  camp . ' ' 

They  were  sitting  around  and  enjoying 
the  fun  of  it,  when  Bill  remarked  to  them: 

"Well,  you  can  laugh  and  holler  all  you 
wanter.  I've  got  'em.  I  don't  know  whether 
I'd  better  buy  her  a  hoss  or  a  piano  for  my 
wedding -present.  A  hundred  dollars  is  a 
big  pile  of  money." 

The  boys  took  charge  of  Vegas  and  the 
other  Mexican,  so  that  they  were  not  at  all 
likely  to  get  away,  and  Buster  Bill  and 
Squawky  were  relieved. 

There  was  a  council  held  next  day  to  con 
sider  what  Bill  should  do  with  his  money, 
and  as  a  result  no  wedding-present  equalled 
the  one  he  made  to  Bessie. 

II 

HIS    LESSONS,     AND    HOW    THEY     ENDED 

"  Here,  you  Bill,  you  quit  monkeying  with 
that  box  of  raisins!" 

35 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Bill  stepped  away  meekly,  although  he 
did  not  quite  understand  it  all.  It  was 
many  months  after  the  capture  of  Vegas, 
but  there  was  something  sudden  in  the  man 
ner  in  which  his  ancient  privileges  at  the 
Gold  Run  store  were  fading  away  from  him. 
His  world  was  undergoing  a  sort  of  revolu 
tion,  and  his  experiences  told  him  so,  and 
the  bottom-rock  truth  of  the  matter  was 
just  this:  when  his  mother  settled  on  Gold 
Run  he  had  been  the  entire  juvenile  popula 
tion.  The  miners  looked  upon  him  as  rep 
resenting  all  the  childhood  in  the  world,  and 
he  might  have  monkeyed  with  the  moon 
if  they  could  have  got  it  down  for  him. 
Those  had  been  Buster  Bill's  great  days,  and 
he  had  not  yet  quite  learned  that  they  were 
over  when  he  stood  by  the  raisin  box  and 
innocently  put  one  small  hand  behind  him. 
He  had  to  let  the  raisins  alone,  but  it  was  not 
because  he  had  grown  so  much  older,  or  be 
cause  he  had  changed  in  any  remarkable  way. 

The  fact  was  that  Bill  was  no  longer  the 
baby  of  the  camp.  Gold  Run  had  a  new 
idol,  and  it  was  now  reposing  in  Keno  Dick's 
36 


BUSTER  BILL 

reconstructed  cabin  away  up  on  the  hill-side, 
between  layers  of  soft  flannel,  and  surrounded 
by  pink  things  and  white  things  and  blue 
things.  The  miners  in  the  gulch  a  mile 
away  were  picking  and  shovelling  carefully 
for  fear  of  waking  up  Keno  Dick's  baby. 
It  was  two  days'  old  now,  and  it  had  been 
christened  Bessie,  after  its  mother.  Buster 
Bill  had  no  idea  that  his  nose  had  been  put 
out  of  joint  by  the  arrival  of  the  baby.  No 
body  else  admired  it  as  much  as  he  did,  and 
he  was  becoming  more  and  more  devoted  to 
it  every  hour  so  manifestly,  that  its  mother 
mentioned  the  fact  to  her  husband  as  one 
more  of  the  many  good  things  she  had  dis 
covered  in  the  Buster.  Bill's  own  mother, 
now  Mrs.  Pat  Noonan,  seemed  almost  to 
have  given  up  her  claims  upon  him  long  ago, 
and  he  had  made  his  home  altogether  with 
Dick.  During  the  year  following  the  great 
wedding  there  had  been  many  a  sharp  tussle 
between  him  and  Bessie.  It  was  not  that 
she  had  quarrelled  with  him  or  he  with  her, 
but  that  there  had  been  a  long  trouble  about 
spelling-books  and  pothooks  and  figures. 
37 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

These  had  been  hard  trials  for  Bill,  and  even 
tears  and  temporary  rebellions,  but  the  tasks 
had  been  conquered  in  the  end,  and  Bessie 
had  reconquered  him  every  time  and  made 
him  more  devoted  than  ever. 

He  was  a  hard  student,  but  he  had  his  own 
peculiar  method  of  study.  He  never  did 
anything  just  as  anybody  else  did.  He  pre 
ferred  to  leave  the  house  in  the  morning,  and 
go  and  sit  in  the  sun,  to  con  over  the  lesson 
of  the  day.  He  would  lay  his  book  on  a 
rock  beside  him,  and  spell  out  a  word  slowly 
one,  two,  three  times,  with  his  eyes  glued  to 
the  page.  Then  he  would  lean  forward  and 
stare  at  the  ground,  with  one  hand  upon  his 
knee  and  the  other  clutching  his  yellow  hair, 
while  he  chanted  forth  the  letters  and  their 
syllables  until  he  knew  them  to  be  fixed  in 
his  memory,  or  until  he  was  forced  to  give 
them  up  in  despair.  The  harder  the  word 
might  be,  the  more  desperate  became  the 
clutch  upon  the  topknot,  and  Keno  Dick  had 
more  than  once  said  that  the  lessons  must 
be  stopped  or  Buster  Bill  would  be  bald- 
headed  before  the  year  was  over. 
38 


BUSTER   BILL 

One  morning  Bill  was  out  as  usual  with  his 
book,  and  with  a  task  before  him  of  more 
than  common  difficulty.  The  sun  was  yet 
hardly  two  hours  high,  and  the  smell  of  break 
fast  bacon  frying  in  the  camp  mingled  with 
the  odor  of  the  chaparral.  It  was  cool  as 
yet,  but  Bill  was  perspiring  all  over,  and  was 
pulling  hard  at  his  topknot.  As  he  went  on 
he  raised  his  voice  in  a  sort  of  agony  of  des 
peration.  He  chanted  those  dreadful  letters 
so  loudly  that  the  sound  floated  over  the 
hill  and  through  the  bushes  and  down  into  the 
gulch.  The  men  heard  it,  and  laughed  a  lit 
tle,  but  Buster  Bill's  daily  struggle  for  knowl 
edge  under  Bessie's  teaching  had  become  as 
much  a  regular  part  of  camp  life  as  were 
their  own  searchings  for  the  uncertain  gold- 
dust  in  the  gulch.  They  went  on  with  their 
toil,  but  the  spelling-chant  reached  the  ears 
of  a  man  who  never  had  any  work  to  do,  and 
he  drew  near  to  listen,  and  to  try  and  pick 
up  any  small  pieces  of  learning  that  might 
come  to  him. 

The  lesson  went  on,  and  Squawky  got  it 
into  his  poor,  dull  head  that  he  too  could 
39 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

learn  to  read  if  Bill  would  try  and  teach  him. 
He  said  so,  and  the  effort  was  faithfully  made 
morning  after  morning,  until  it  was  given  up 
by  joint  consent  as  being  of  no  use.  It  was 
one  of  the  severest  trials  of  Bill's  schooling, 
and  he  was  glad  when  it  was  over.  Even 
after  that,  however,  Squawky  did  not  fail  to 
come  and  sit,  while  Bill  studied,  and  listen, 
as  if  some  good  might  come  to  him  in  the 
sounds  he  did  not  understand. 

There  had  been  weeks  and  months  of  that 
curious  companionship,  until  at  last  one 
particular  morning  arrived,  just  a  little  be 
fore  the  affair  with  the  box  of  raisins.  Bill 
and  his  book  were  at  the  rock  as  usual,  and 
he  only  raised  his  head  to  say,  "Hello, 
Squawky !"  when  his  Digger  friend  drew  near. 

"  Ugh!"  grunted  Squawky.     "  Heap  hard!" 

"You  bet!"  responded  Buster  Bill. 

The  spelling-chant  began  again,  now  and 
then  sinking  to  a  loud  buzz,  while  Squawky 
sat  down,  with  his  doglike  eyes  fixed  steadily 
upon  the  earnest  face  of  the  learner.  Ever 
since  the  brilliant  affair  of  the  Vegas  claim 
he  had  looked  upon  Bill  as  gifted  beyond 
40 


BUSTER  BILL 

other  mortals.  He  would  have  followed  rev 
erently  wherever  the  Buster  led,  regardless 
of  consequences.  He  was  at  this  very  date 
slowly  weaving,  in  the  seclusion  of  his  bur 
row,  with  the  peculiar  Digger  skill  which  can 
manage  beads  better  than  it  can  letters,  a 
belt  the  glory  of  which  had  never  been  du 
plicated  in  his  tribe.  This  was  to  be  worthy 
to  be  presented  to  Buster  Bill.  He  thought 
of  the  belt,  and  grinned  gleefully  at  the  very 
moment  when  Keno  Dick  came  around  on 
the  trail,  in  full  view  of  the  picture  the  pair 
made  for  him.  He  stood  and  looked  and 
laughed  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  shouted 
a  message  from  Bessie  to  Bill. 

"Come  up  and  see  the  baby,"  slowly  re 
peated  the  Buster,  and  Dick  laughed  louder 
than  before  at  the  expression  that  grew  upon 
his  puzzled  face.  Never  had  he  heard  of 
anything  like  it,  and  he  put  his  hand  into  his 
hair  in  a  dazed,  studious  way  that  disturbed 
the  mind  of  Squawky. 

The  Indian  arose,  rubbed  his  own  forehead, 
and  remarked  to  Dick:  "  Him  spellum.  Heap 
hard." 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Bill  gave  it  up.  He  closed  his  book,  put 
it  into  his  capacious  pocket,  turned  his  face 
up  the  trail,  and  walked  sturdily  forward 
without  saying  a  word  to  smiling  Keno  Dick. 
Bill  saw  no  occasion  for  smiling.  There  were 
some  things  in  this  world  too  weighty  to  be 
laughed  about,  and  he  grew  more  sober,  in 
spite  of  Dick's  jokes,  until  they  entered  the 
cabin.  They  had  not  been  followed  by 
Squawky,  and  Bill  now  nerved  himself  to  a 
great  effort,  for  they  were  bringing  forward 
a  sort  of  white  bundle.  As  they  began  to 
lift  some  of  the  coverings  of  that  bundle, 
he  drew  a  deep  breath  and  blinked  his  eyes  in 
almost  gasping  expectation.  The  boys  had 
called  him  a  baby  when  he  first  came  to 
camp,  he  knew  that,  but  it  was  only  a  name, 
and  he  had  now  for  years  been  Buster  Bill 
of  Gold  Run.  This  must  be  something  very 
different,  and  he  craned  his  neck  and  opened 
wide  his  mouth  and  eyes  as  the  last  light 
wrappings  were  removed.  The  baby  lifted 
its  tiny  hands,  and  spread  its  ten  pink 
fingers,  and  moved  its  head  around,  as  if 
looking  at  things.  Buster  Bill  started  back 
42 


BUSTER  BILL 

as  if  he  had  received  a  shock  of  some  sort. 
"It's  a  baby,"  he  said  to  himself.  "It's 
about  as  long  as  my  arm.  It's  kind  o' 
pink." 

A  smile  of  admiration  spread  slowly  over 
his  face,  and  he  put  out  a  finger  to  touch  the 
baby's  cheek.  He  thought  how  soft  it  was, 
but  drew  back  quickly,  and  Keno  Dick  en 
couraged  him  to  try  again.  He  did  so;  but 
just  as  he  touched  it  a  terrible  change  came 
over  the  little  face,  and  the  wee  hands  grasp 
ed  the  air  convulsively,  while  the  rosy  mouth 
sent  out  a  cry  as  of  sudden  pain. 

"My  grashus!"  exclaimed  Bill,  as  he  drew 
back  his  hand ;  and  he  stood  for  a  moment  as 
if  rooted  to  the  cabin  floor,  while  he  wondered 
how  he  had  hurt  that  baby,  and  Keno  Dick 
threw  himself  back  in  a  chair  and  roared  with 
laughter. 

The  revolution  in  Buster  Bill's  life  went  on 
from  that  very  hour.  He  took  it  rightly, 
and  was  entirely  willing  to  give  up  all  that 
Keno  Dick's  baby  was  costing  him,  including 
free  raisins.  He  had  discovered  his  mission, 
and  that  it  was  to  entertain  and  generally 
43 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

supervise  that  baby.  It  was  even  due  to  a 
motion  of  his  that  she  was  named  Bessie, 
and  he  watched  her  mother's  management  of 
her  anxiously,  lest  there  should  be  some  mis 
take  or  other.  When,  a  few  days  later,  Keno 
Dick  asked  him  about  his  lessons,  he  was  al 
most  offended.  "Ho!"  he  said,  "what  time 
have  I  got  for  studying  books  now  there's  a 
baby?" 

That  seemed  to  be  conclusive,  and  he  put 
away  all  thought  about  learning,  until  one 
day  when  he  overheard  a  conversation  be 
tween  Dick  and  Bessie  in  which  they  dis 
cussed  the  baby's  future,  and  mentioned  the 
many  accomplishments  which  she  was  to  be 
taught.  He  walked  away  by  himself  and 
pondered  for  a  while.  It  was  sunset  when 
he  returned,  and  Dick  and  Bessie  were  sitting 
in  front  of  the  cabin.  •  He  stood  before  them 
and  remarked,  seriously,  "  If  the  baby's  going 
ter  learn  all  of  them  things,  I've  got  ter, 
'cause  I  might  want  ter  marry  her  when  she 
grows  up."  He  was  disgusted  by  the  man 
ner  in  which  Bessie  put  her  head  on  Dick's 
shoulder  and  laughed  just  then,  but  he  add- 
44 


BUSTER   BILL 

ed,  "  But  the  baby's  got  ter  stop  hollering  so 
much  if  she  wants  me  to  marry  her." 

The  baby  grew  quieter  rapidly,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  she  and  Buster  Bill  had 
formed  the  most  prosperous  partnership  in 
all  the  Gold  Run  camp.  Bill  was  complete 
ly  happy.  Bessie  freely  trusted  him  with 
her  treasure,  and  he  and  the  other  miners 
managed  to  construct  a  very  wonderful  little 
wagon.  It  worked  particularly  well  upon 
smooth  ground  with  the  baby  in  it,  and  the 
two  playmates  traversed  the  hills  and  gulches 
for  miles  around. 

One  morning  when  they  were  out  in  the 
woods  together  the  strangest  noise  he  had 
ever  heard  came  to  the  ears  of  Buster  Bill. 
The  birds  stopped  singing  and  the  pine-trees 
held  their  breath.  The  dancing  shadows 
stood  still  for  a  moment,  and  then  shivered 
as  that  awful  sound  came  again,  and  like 
a  flash  Bill  understood  it  all. 

"The  old  grizzly  they  wounded  down  on 
the  other  side  of  Georgetown  yesterday!" 

The  hunters  had  said  he  would  surely  die 
last  night,  thought  Bill,  and  yet  the  bear 
45 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

must  have  travelled  fast  from  the  place 
where  he  received  his  death-shot. 

That  was  so;  but  the  grizzly  had  charged 
furiously  upon  the  ambush  from  which  the 
fatal  volley  had  been  given.  He  had  roared 
with  wrath  and  pain  when  unable  to  reach 
his  cunning  enemies,  and  had  charged  onward 
with  roar  on  roar,  blindly  staggering  and 
crashing  from  place  to  place,  through  under 
brush  and  chaparral,  until  he  had  come  with 
the  morning  sun  to  the  hills  above  Gold  Run. 

He  was  bleeding  from  his  death-wound; 
he  was  growing  fainter ;  he  staggered  and  fell ; 
but  he  had  seen  Buster  Bill's  yellow  hair,  and 
he  arose  again  with  his  eyes  fixed,  red,  and 
glaring  upon  the  sunny,  grassy  open  and  the 
little  figures  in  the  centre  of  it.  Bill  drew  a 
long,  deep  breath  and  looked  swiftly  around. 
He  looked  out  through  the  trees  and  the 
bushes,  and  then  up  through  the  branches  to 
the  sky.  An  oak  leaf  fluttered  slowly  down 
and  fell  upon  the  baby's  hand.  She  looked 
to  see  if  he  had  dropped  it,  and  laughed  to 
make  him  notice  her.  Then  she  bit  the  hand 
with  which  he  had  covered  her  mouth,  and 
46 


BUSTER  BILL 

her  large,  dark  eyes  seemed  to  ask  him  what 
all  this  meant.  He  laid  his  other  hand  upon 
her  head.  He  knew  that  he  could  run  fast 
enough.  He  could  make  his  own  escape; 
but  then  the  baby — 

"Oh,  Dick!  oh,  Bessie!  oh,  the  baby!" 

He  lifted  her  from  the  wagon  and  hurried 
with  her  to  the  other  side  of  the  grassy  place. 
The  bear  was  opposite  them,  with  only  the 
length  of  that  sunny  spot  between,  when  Bill 
put  the  baby  down  and  turned  and  went  to 
meet  him. 

"For  his  strength  is  nearly  gone,"  thought 
Bill,  "and  if  I  can  tire  him  some  little  more 
he'll  be  likely  to  flop  over  before  he  gets 
1kar" 

The  baby  sat  still  and  looked  in  wonder 
at  Billy.  He  swerved  swiftly  aside  and 
avoided  the  grizzly's  clutch.  He  danced  and 
capered  and  shouted  to  attract  the  mon 
ster's  attention,  and  he  succeeded.  The 
bear  grew  wild  with  rage  as  he  turned  and 
rushed  and  turned  again  after  the  strange 
little  yellow-haired  figure  that  darted  around 
him.  His  terrible  mouth  was  open  wide  and 
4  47 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

dripping  with  blood  and  foam,  and  his  red 
eyes  glared  more  fiercely,  and  his  panting 
came  more  heavily,  with  every  failure  to 
catch  his  tormentor.  If  he  rushed  for  that 
figure  on  one  side,  he  was  sure  to  hear  its 
voice  on  the  other,  shouting  and  jeering,  so 
very  near  and  yet  so  out  of  reach.  He  sank 
down  on  the  grass  at  last,  and  it  danced 
nearer  yet,  with  a  jubilant  shout  of  boyish 
triumph. 

Only  the  baby  saw,  only  the  baby  knew, 
how  swiftly  the  dying  beast  arose,  with  one 
last  awful  roar,  and  toppled  suddenly  for 
ward,  clutching,  grappling,  tearing,  falling 
upon,  and  crushing  poor,  brave  little  Buster 
Bill! 

The  bear  lay  still  now,  and  the  baby  sat 
silent  for  a  while,  amazed  and  frightened. 
Then  she  called,  "Billy!  Billy!"  again  and 
again,  and  then  she  toddled  across  the  grass 
and  patted  his  white  face  and  cooed  over  him. 
His  head  and  arms  were  free,  and  as  she 
cuddled  closer  his  blue  eyes  opened,  and  he 
smiled,  whispering:  "Bessie's  baby;  she's 
safe.  Dick  '11  be  glad." 
48 


BUSTER  BILL 

The  Georgetown  boys  followed  the  trail  of 
the  grizzly  leisurely,  for  they  were  sure  of 
finding  him  at  the  end  of  it.  The  Gold  Run 
boys  joined  them  when  they  came  in  sight 
over  the  hill.  They  mounted  slowly  through 
the  chaparral,  and  found  the  trail  marked 
with  blood  all  the  way.  The  sun  sank  lower 
as  they  went  on,  and  a  silence  fell  upon  the 
hunters.  When  they  reached  the  grassy 
open  it  was  almost  twilight,  but  for  one  ray 
that  seemed  to  linger  as  if  it  were  a  lamp  left 
to  burn  in  a  holy  place.  It  shone  upon 
a  tall,  dark  form  standing  before  some  object 
lying  in  the  middle  of  the  open.  Long,  black, 
unkempt  hair  hung  loosely  about  his  face, 
and  he  was  tearing  it  and  beating  his  breast. 
Then  he  ceased,  and  knelt  down  and  held  his 
hands  high  above  his  head.  They  held  what 
seemed  a  belt,  worked  with  bright-colored 
beads,  and  the  sun-ray  fell  among  them,  as 
if  it  were  turning  the  tiny  arch  of  the  belt 
into  a  rainbow.  It  was  only  Squawky,  the 
Digger  Indian,  but  now  in  his  grief  he  laid 
the  belt  upon  the  grass,  and  threw  himself 
down  upon  his  face  with  a  low  moaning, 
49 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

just  as  the  hunters  came  hurrying  to  the 
spot. 

There  was  a  storm  of  half -suppressed,  deep- 
throated  exclamations,  while  one  man  caught 
up  the  sleeping  baby  and  others  lifted  away 
the  dead  grizzly.  A  piece  of  paper  fluttered 
down  from  the  baby's  dress,  and  they  picked 
it  up.  It  was  a  leaf  torn  from  a  spelling- 
book;  but  there  was  writing  on  it — red 
writing — done  rudely,  as  if  with  the  end  of  a 
twig: 

"She  is  all  rite  but  he  fel  on  me.  The  baby  is  all 
rite  she  will  have  to  mary  some  other  feller. 

"  BUSTER  BILL." 


"PUNK"     ON     THE     RESERVATION 
How  a  Kiowa  Boy  Turned  "Paleface " 

jHE  band  of  Kiowas  commanded 
by  the  great  war  chief  Kicking 
Mule  had  kept  away  from  the 
Reservation  just  as  long  as  it 
could,  but  the  time  had  come  for  it  to  go 
there.  The  United  States  government  had 
set  apart  for  it  lands  enough,  and  had  pro 
vided  many  good  things  upon  them,  includ 
ing  an  "Agent"  to  distribute  rations  and 
presents,  but  the  great  chief  and  his  warriors 
and  their  squaws  preferred  to  run  wild.  They 
had  refused  to  go  until  convinced  by  good 
reasons  that  it  was  necessary.  Sixty  good 
reasons  on  foot,  in  nice  blue  uniforms,  were 
now  marching  along  with  them,  and  forty 
more  on  horseback  were  riding  behind  them. 
These  were  there  to  look  out  for  any  Kiowas 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

who  might  lag  behind,  and  there  was  need  of 
them,  for  the  nearer  any  Kiowa  knew  him 
self  to  be  to  the  Agency  in  the  centre  of  the 
Reservation,  the  more  he  wanted  to  get 
away. 

Kicking  Mule's  band  was  neither  small  nor 
poor,  and  it  made  a  very  long  procession. 
There  were  about  one  hundred  warriors,  two 
hundred  squaws,  four  hundred  boys  and 
girls,  eight  hundred  ponies,  and  about  sixteen 
hundred  pappooses  and  dogs.  That  is,  it 
seemed  so  to  any  man  who  set  out  to  count 
the  dogs,  for  they  were  everywhere.  Each 
dog  hated  any  other  dog  that  was  going  to  a 
Reservation,  and  so  there  was  a  vast  amount 
of  snarling  and  quarrelling. 

The  less  any  one  knows  about  an  evil  that 
is  said  to  be  coming,  the  more  he  is  afraid  of 
it,  and  as  the  boys  of  the  band  knew  less  than 
the  warriors  and  squaws,  they  were  in  more 
trouble  of  mind.  As  for  the  girls,  no  well- 
taught  Kiowa  girl  presumes  to  have  a  mind 
of  her  own. 

It  was  well  understood  by  all  the  boys 
that  henceforth  if  one  of  them  should  be 
52 


"PUNK"  ON  THE  RESERVATION 

caught  farther  off  from  the  Agency  than  he 
could  ride  a  pony  in  three  days,  he  would 
be  tied  up  and  sent  home.  It  was  to  be  a 
dreadful  bondage,  and  no  less.  No  wonder 
that  every  Kiowa  boy  felt  his  heart  swell  re- 
belliously  when  the  word  was  passed  along 
the  straggling  procession  that  the  houses  of 
the  Agency  were  just  beyond  the  crest  of  the 
next  hill.  One  boy  near  the  cavalry  end  of 
the  band  stood  stock-still  and  looked  about 
him,  as  if  he  wrere  half  inclined  to  break  away 
and  run  rather  than  see  any  such  houses. 

He  was  a  stout,  squarely  built  boy  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen,  and  he  was  well  clad  in  a 
piece  of  deer-skin,  which  was  tied  around  him 
just  above  his  hips,  and  reached  away  down 
to  within  six  or  eight  inches  of  his  knees. 
He  carried  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  they  were 
less  of  a  load  to  him  than  more  clothes  would 
have  been. 

Nobody  could  have  guessed  closely  whether 
there  were  eleven  dogs  or  twenty-seven  that 
stood  still  when  the  boy  did.  Some  of  them 
sat  down,  but  they  all  snarled  at  each  other, 
and  their  general  behavior  was  disorderly. 
53 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"Hullo,  Punk,  get  along.  You'll  all  be 
there  pretty  soon,  and  my  job  will  be  over." 

The  young  Kiowa  turned  his '  fat,  brown 
face  to  the  left  and  looked  up,  but  he  said 
nothing.  He  did  not  feel  fond  of  white  men 
just  then,  and  he  felt  less  affection  for  those 
two  fine-looking  men  on  horseback  than  for 
any  other  pale-faces  he  could  think  of.  One 
was  the  Major  commanding  the  military 
force,  and  the  other  was  the  terrible  "Agent" 
of  the  Kiowa  Reservation. 

"There,  Dr.  Prouty,  didn't  I  tell  you  so? 
The  most  complete  specimen  of  a  wild  boy 
you  ever  saw.  He  can  talk  English,  too. 
Just  the  color  of  punk,  with  a  shade  of  red. 
He'll  get  darker  as  he  grows  older,  but  the 
name  '11  stick  to  him  till  he  kills  somebody 
and  wins  another." 

The  Major  was  a  tall,  gray-headed  soldier 
with  a  twist  of  grim  fun  in  his  face,  but 
the  Agent  was  short  and  fat,  and  his  blue 
eyes  were  twinkling  merrily  as  he  studied 
the  sulky  countenance  Punk  turned  towards 
him. 

"Major  Voorhees,"  said  he,  "I'll  try  it  on 
54 


"PUNK"  ON  THE  RESERVATION 

as  soon  as  there's  a  chance  after  we  get  in. 
He  is  raw  material." 

The  Major  turned  at  once  in  his  saddle,  and 
shouted  to  two  men  who  were  riding  a  little 
behind  them. 

"  Orderly,  mark  that  boy.  Joe,  would  you 
know  him  again  ?" 

"Anywhere  this  side  of  the  mountains," 
replied  a  man  who  was  not  in  uniform;  but 
the  other  man  who  was  in  uniform  only 
touched  his  hat  and  remarked,  "Yes,  sir." 

They  all  rode  forward  as  if  they  had  busi 
ness  at  the  front,  and  Punk  sent  a  barefooted 
kick  towards  the  nearest  dog.  He  had  heard 
and  he  had  understood,  and  it  made  him  feel 
reckless,  but  he  walked  along.  He  felt  quite 
sure  that  he  was  the  only  boy  in  the  band  of 
Kicking  Mule  who  had  been  singled  out  and 
spoken  to.  He  felt  proud  of  it,  and  was  not 
unwilling  to  be  called  Punk,  but  he  felt  bitter, 
too.  All  the  wild  blood  in  him  was  in  a  dis 
turbed  condition,  and  now  he  felt  an  even 
greater  trouble  coming.  His  curiosity  had 
got  on  fire,  and  he  was  suddenly  anxious  to 
see  all  that  might  be  seen  from  the  top  of  the 
55 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

hill.  There  would  be  something  new  for 
everybody,  and  he  had  not  more  than  a  small 
glimmer  of  how  much  would  be  new  to  him. 
He  had  heard  the  Major  say  to  Dr.  Prouty,  as 
they  rode  away: 

"  Kicking  Mule  has  five  sons.  This  is  the 
youngest  and  ugliest." 

"Just  the  specimen  I'm  after.  It  won't 
offend  anybody." 

"Offend?  No;  but  there's  no  telling  how 
you'll  tame  him." 

Punk  was  thinking  about  it,  and  one  of 
the  words  used  he  did  not  understand,  and 
he  exclaimed: 

"  Ugh !     Tame  Punk  ?     What  that  mean  ?" 

In  a  few  moments  more  he  was  again  stand 
ing  still  and  saying  "Ugh!"  but  every  dog 
was  running  forward.  He  could  see  the  build 
ings  of  the  Agency  in  and  around  the  stock 
ade  of  what  had  once  been  a  pretty  strong  fort, 
and  the  dogs  may  have  received  news  that 
some  bones  were  there.  It  was  safe  to  say 
that  all  bones  would  quickly  be  found.  The 
Kiowa  warriors  and  squaws  were  not  think 
ing  of  bones,  but  they  knew  that  there  would 
"56 


"PUNK"   ON   THE   RESERVATION 

be  a  distribution  of  presents.  The  boys  and 
girls  felt  pretty  sure  that  none  of  the  presents 
would  get  down  to  them,  but  they  were  all 
like  Punk  in  being  curious  about  those  pale 
face  "lodges"  and  the  new  kind  of  life  before 
them.  The  very  idea  of  being  fastened  down 
in  one  spot  was  stunning  and  perplexing. 
They  had  never  lived  anywhere  in  particular. 

On  poured  the  cavalcade,  and  Punk  found 
himself  moving  faster  and  faster,  until  he 
and  a  swarm  of  dogs  were  away  ahead  of  the 
foot-soldiers.  He  and  some  other  boys  very 
much  like  him  reached  the  Agency  in  ad 
vance  of  anybody,  red  or  white,  who  had  any 
dignity.  Kicking  Mule  was  too  great  a  chief 
to  show  a  sign  of  interest  in  what  was  go 
ing  on,  and  his  braves  were  also  very  great 
Indians,  and  ready  to  say  so.  They  all  pre 
served  their  dignity,  and  their  squaws  were 
afraid  to  go  too  fast. 

Punk  saw  a  great  deal  in  a  very  short  time, 
but  there  were  soldiers  guarding  every  house 
except  one.  It  was  built  of  wood,  in  two 
stories,  and  the  Kiowa  boy  went  over  it  from 
top  to  bottom.  He  opened  and  shut  doors 
57 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  looked 
through  glass  windows,  and  wondered  at  the 
stairs.  The  dogs  that  went  in  with  him  found 
no  bones  there,  and  went  out  again ;  but  Punk 
sat  down  in  the  fireplace  and  looked  about 
him  and  felt  that  he  was  in  a  new  country. 
Everything  was  strange  and  foreign  to  him. 
He  did  not  belong  in  such  a  house  as  that. 
He  had  been  born  in  a  lodge  of  skins  and 
brought  up  on  horseback.  He  had  rarely 
walked  so  far  as  he  had  walked  that  day  as  a 
punishment  for  straggling  from  the  line  of 
march. 

There  are  many  ideas  in  the  mind  of  even 
an  Indian  boy,  but  Punk  felt  as  if  all  the  ideas 
he  was  accustomed  to  were  leaving  him. 
They  were  being  crowded  out  by  the  pale 
face  ideas  in  that  empty  house,  and  he  longed 
to  get  up  and  run  away. 

"Catch  him.  Tie  him  up.  No.  Ugh!" 
he  muttered,  discontentedly.  "Go  look  all 
over.  See  fort." 

Several  army  officers  and  soldiers  were 
busily  at  work  pointing  out  to  Kiowa  war 
riors  the  limits  of  their  first  camping  ground. 

58 


"PUNK"  ON  THE  RESERVATION 

No  great  "talk"  or  giving  of  presents  was  to 
be  until  things  were  in  order,  and  that  might 
require  two  or  three  days.  Dr.  Prouty  and 
his  assistants  had  work  on  their  hands,  and 
Punk  was  entirely  forgotten  until  the  next 
morning.  He  knew,  and  nobody  else  cared 
to  know,  that  as  soon  as  the  great  drove  of 
horses,  mules,  and  ponies  that  made  the  band 
a  rich  one  were  "corralled  "  he  had  gone  to 
the  corral  as  the  only  spot  he  could  think 
of  where  he  might  feel  at  home.  He  knew 
that  there  would  be  plenty  to  eat,  and  he 
ventured  back  to  his  father's  lodge,  as  soon 
as  it  was  set  up,  and  got  some  supper.  The 
great  chief  was  to  have  one  of  the  best  houses, 
but  the  ceremony  of  giving  it  to  him  was  yet 
to  be  performed. 

Punk  slept  among  the  ponies  as  contented 
ly  as  if  he  had  been  a  colt,  and  a  particularly 
untamed  one,  but  he  was  astir  by  daylight 
in  the  morning.  The  corral  was  on  the  bank 
of  the  little  river  running  through  the  Reser 
vation,  and  Punk's  first  performance  was  to 
take  a  good  swim  and  come  ashore  a  reason 
ably  clean  young  Kiowa.  When  he  was  once 
59 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

more  clothed  in  his  piece  of  deer-skin,  he 
looked  around  in  all  directions,  and  con 
cluded  to  go  to  the  lodge  for  breakfast. 

There  was  to  be  an  attempt  to  civilize  as 
well  as  "corner"  that  band  of  wild  red  men. 
The  Reservation  itself  was  as  large  as  several 
pale-face  counties,  and  was  of  good  lands, 
bad  lands,  mountains,  and  valleys.  Farm 
ing  was  to  be  taught  at  the  Agency,  and 
mechanics  were  to  be  made  out  of  Kiowas, 
and  it  was  said  that  several  kinds  of  mission 
aries  were  coming.  Punk  had  but  a  faint  idea 
of  what  might  be,  but  he  was  growing  more 
courageous,  and  his  curiosity  helped  him  face 
the  wonders  before  him.  He  almost  felt  sure 
that  he  would  not  be  afraid  of  a  missionary. 

The  breakfast  at  the  lodge  of  Kicking 
Mule  was  cooked  for  him  first  and  for  his  older 
sons  afterwards,  but  Punk's  turn  came  at 
last.  His  father  and  brothers  had  heard  the 
name  given  him  by  the  Major,  and  they  did 
not  let  go  of  it. 

"Ugh!"  said  Kicking  Mule.  "Great  war 
chief  say  Punk.  Kiowa  say  so.  Good  med 
icine." 

60 


"PUNK"  ON  THE  RESERVATION 

Hardly  had  Punk  finished  eating  the  first 
piece  of  cold  boiled  salt  pork  that  he  had 
ever  tasted  before  he  had  a  tremendous 
sensation.  He  had  been  sent  for  by  Major 
Voorhees  and  Dr.  Prouty,  and  here  were  the 
"orderly"  and  the  " scout"  from  head 
quarters. 

Punk  obeyed  in  silence  until  he  stood  in 
front  of  the  great  white  men  and  heard  his 
father  ask,  "What  for  want  boy?" 

"  Dress  him  up,"  said  Dr.  Prouty.  "  Make 
young  pale-face  of  him.  Handsome  boy. 
Young  chief." 

"He'll  know  a  heap,  then,"  said  Major 
Voorhees,  gravely;  and  Punk  was  almost  in 
dread  of  what  he  might  know  if  all  the  things 
he  saw  before  him  should  be  put  upon  him. 

A  very  brilliant  old  red  "polo"  cap  came 
first,  and  it  changed  his  whole  appearance  in 
a  moment.  So  did  a  red  flannel  shirt  that 
followed;  but  Punk  put  on  a  pair  of  bright- 
blue  trousers  with  a  shudder.  It  was  fine, 
but  it  was  awful,  and  the  orderly  had  to  help 
him  get  on  some  very  gay  cotton  stockings 
and  a  loose  pair  of  shoes.  Then  the  orderly 
61 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

tied  a  green -and -white  necktie  under  the 
rolling  collar  of  the  flannel  shirt,  and  Punk 
was  "  up  and  dressed  "  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life. 

"  He  ought  to  be  able  to  read  now,  doctor," 
said  Major  Voorhees,  "  according  to  your 
theory.  Give  him  a  pocket-handkerchief 
and  a  pair  of  gloves,  and  he  ought  to  write 
and  cipher." 

"He  knows  some  things  already  that  he 
never  knew  before,"  said  the  fun -loving 
Agent,  but  neither  of  them  laughed  until 
Kicking  Mule  himself  did.  That  was  when 
Punk  tried  to  strut  around  in  those  shoes. 
The  shoes  themselves  were  uncomfortable 
enough,  but  added  to  them  were  the  trou 
sers. 

"Put  your  coat  on  now,"  said  the  Major, 
holding  out  a  jacket  with  gilt  buttons  and 
braid  upon  it  that  must  have  been  made  for 
some  kind  of  a  drummer-boy. 

Punk's  pride  of  dress  was  fully  aroused, 

and  he  put  the  jacket  on  with  a  face  full  of 

determination  to  walk.     He  was   the  first 

of  all  young  Kiowas  to  be  rigged  up  in  that 

62 


"PUNK"  ON  THE   RESERVATION 

way,  but  the  Indian  boy  was  not  living  any 
where  who  could  do  well  with  his  first  trial 
of  shoes  and  stockings. 

He  was  on  the  Reservation ;  he  was  at  the 
Agency ;  he  had  begun  right  off  to  be  a  white 
man,  and  one  of  these  days  he  might  feel  at 
home  in  a  house.  Just  now  it  came  strongly 
upon  him  that  he  wished  himself  back  in  the 
corral  or  in  the  river,  for  all  the  red  and  white 
men  around  him  gave  up  being  dignified  and 
began  to  laugh. 

"Dr.  Prouty,"  exclaimed  Major  Voorhees, 
"you  will  be  on  good  terms  with  your  Ind 
ians.  It's  the  best  thing  you  could  have 
done.  Let  him  take  off  all  but  the  cap  and 
be  easy." 

"  He'll  come  to  them  by  degrees,"  chuckled 
the  Agent;  but  he  made  Punk  understand 
that  all  that  finery  was  to  be  his,  piece  by 
piece,  thereafter,  as  fast  as  he  should  prove 
himself  "a  good  Indian." 

It  was  hard  to  take  off  anything  except 
the  shoes,  but  every  dog  in  camp  barked  or 
yelped  and  ran  when  he  saw  Punk  coming 
towards  him  with  that  red  cap  on. 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"Some  pale-face,"  said  he,  as  he  stood 
before  his  mother  proudly;  and  she  also 
laughed  as  she  replied: 

"  Head  little  bit  pale-face.  Rest  all  Kiowa. 
Heap  Punk!" 


ONE     LITTLE     INDIAN 
A    Story    of    the    Sioux 

rH!"  It  was  a  very  large  grunt 
to  come  from  so  small  a  human 
being,  but  one  Sioux  Indian  boy 
was  in  difficulties.  He  was  short 
and  thin,  and  may  have  been  fifteen  years 
old,  and  his  clothing  consisted  of  a  piece  of 
ragged  old  blanket  about  his  loins;  but  that 
was  in  the  height  of  the  fashion  for  boys  of 
his  age  and  tribe.  He  was  not  troubling  him 
self  about  matters  of  dress.  His  elf-locks 
of  black  hair  were  tied  back  from  a  face  that 
was  broad  and  ugly,  but  full  of  the  keenest 
intelligence.  Half  a  dozen  long  and  guttural 
words  dropped  from  his  lips  in  quick  suc 
cession,  and  expressed  an  important  part  of 
his  embarrassment.  What  they  meant  was : 
"River  too  high.  Deep.  Swift.  Pah-ghee 
65 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

couldn't  get  his  pony  over.  Get  drowned 
himself.  Lose  pony  anyhow.  Ugh!  Bad!" 

A  low  whinny  behind  him  sounded  almost 
as  if  he  had  sympathy,  and  a  long,  rough, 
yellow  head,  queerer  than  even  his  own, 
was  shoved  over  his  shoulder.  It  was  the 
head  of  the  pony  he  was  afraid  of  losing,  and 
it  may  be  that  the  pony  was  also  afraid  of 
losing  Pah-ghee.  They  were  standing  in  a 
deep  gully  leading  down  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  before  them  the  turbid  flood  of  the  Yel 
lowstone  whirled  by  at  a  rate  that  told  of 
heavy  rainfalls  in  the  far-away  mountains 
it  came  from.  No  pony  in  his  senses  but 
would  have  felt  his  spirits  go  down  at  the 
prospect  of  fording  or  swimming  such  a 
swollen  torrent. 

There  was  a  good  reason  why  the  boy  and 
pony  were  in  that  gully.  It  was  the  best 
hiding-place  to  be  found  for  miles  and  miles 
by  anything  too  large  to  crawl  into  a  hole  in 
the  ground.  Neither  Pah-ghee  nor  his  pony 
was  a  prairie-dog,  but  that  was  not  the  whole 
of  the  puzzle  before  the  wiry-looking  young 
Sioux.  He  had  responsibilities  on  his  hands, 
66 


ONE  LITTLE   INDIAN 

and  they  had  begun  to  load  him  down  at 
sunrise  that  morning. 

The  camp  of  Red  Bird's  band  of  thieving 
and  all  but  outlawed  Sioux,  twenty  miles 
away,  down  the  river,  had  been  stirred  up 
very  early.  Only  the  vigilant  sentries,  a 
few  dogs,  and  one  prairie-wolf,  skulking  as 
near  as  he  dared,  had  been  awake  earlier  than 
Pah-ghee.  He  had  aroused  his  mother  next 
with  a  view  to  breakfast,  and  she  had  scolded 
him  roundly  as  she  went  about  it.  She  never 
had  failed  him  or  anybody  else  in  that  par 
ticular;  and  she  was  just  a  copy  of  him,  ex 
cept  that  she  was  one  foot  taller,  and  a 
squaw.  If  she  had  been  a  boy  of  his  age, 
nobody  could  have  told  them  apart;  neither 
could  they  have  been  known  from  each  other 
if  he  had  been  a  squaw  of  her  age  and 
size.  He  had  no  father  living,  for  the  grown 
up  braves  of  Red  Bird's  band  were  less 
numerous  than  they  had  been. 

In  truth,  an  especial  reason  for  getting  up 

early  that  morning  was  the  fact  that  Red 

Bird   knew   that    a    company    of   pale-face 

cavalry   was   following   him  for    his   many 

6? 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

sins.  It  was  after  him  now  on  account  of 
some  of  his  more  recent  sins,  including  some 
very  good  horses  that  he  had  stolen,  and  he 
did  not  wish  to  meet  those  blue-coated  horse 
men.  He  was  willing  to  ride  fast  in  any 
direction  if  he  could  thereby  avoid  any  con 
versation  with  the  captain  of  that  company ; 
so  was  Pah-ghee,  and  so  was  his  mother,  and 
so  was  everybody  else  in  camp,  and  the  whole 
band  was  anxious  to  know  in  which  direction 
to  ride.  Should  they  go  up-stream  or  down 
stream,  or  should  they  try  to  swim,  or  would 
it  be  better  to  fly?  There  were  no  wings  to 
be  had,  and  the  river  was  rising  fast,  and  the 
cavalry  must  be  near  the  bank  of  it,  above  or 
below.  Red  Bird  determined  that  he  woxild 
find  out  which,  even  if  it  should  cost  him 
something. 

He  was  a  great  and  wise  chief,  as  he  was 
fond  of  saying  to  people  who  talked  with  him. 
He  knew  that  a  boy  on  a  pony  could  see 
cavalry  as  clearly,  and  ride  away  from  them 
to  tell  where  they  were  as  fast,  as  could  a  full- 
grown  warrior  on  a  valuable  horse.  Boys 
and  ponies  were  cheaper  than  braves  and 
68 


ONE  LITTLE   INDIAN 

horses.  Pah-ghee  was  considered  the  hand 
somest,  best,  and  brightest,  and  by  all  odds 
the  most  valuable  boy  in  the  band,  but  he 
was  so  considered  by  only  one  little  thin  old 
squaw.  All  except  his  mother  said  that  Red 
Bird  could  afford  to  run  risks  with  him.  So 
Pah-ghee  was  sent  in  the  direction  which  was 
believed  to  have  most  danger  in  it,  and  Red 
Bird  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  him  that  if  he 
were  not  back  again  by  the  second  night  it 
would  be  because  the  wicked  pale-faces  had 
got  him.  The  great  and  wise  chief  would 
thus  know  on  what  other  road  it  would  be 
best  to  run  away. 

Pah-ghee's  mother,  being  a  squaw  without 
a  husband,  could  not  speak  to  any  warrior  or 
chief  about  such  a  matter.  Her  precious  boy 
must  go,  according  to  orders,  and  so  she  went 
and  sat  down  before  a  sage-bush  on  the  river- 
bank  and  scolded  right  into  it  for  an  hour. 

Pah-ghee  was  proud  and  glad  to  go,  and 
rode  awTay  fully  determined  to  find  some 
cavalry  before  he  came  back.  He  rode  hard 
all  day,  keeping  near  the  bank  of  the  crooked 
river.  He  was  really  compelled  to  do  so, 
69 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

much  of  the  way,  by  reason  of  the  rocky  and 
broken  kind  of  land  that  came  down  near  it 
on  that  bank.  When  at  last  he  came  out 
into  the  open  plain  it  was  late  in  the  day,  but 
he  scouted  ahead.  It  was  just  after  he  had 
begun  to  despair  of  success  that  he  found 
his  cavalry.  He  also  found  that  they  had 
ridden  in  so,  as  to  strike  the  river  behind  him 
and  cut  him  off.  The  men  in  blue  knew 
nothing  about  him.  They  went  into  camp 
at  once,  and  he  went  into  the  gully  to  con 
sider  the  matter.  So  did  the  yellow  pony, 
and  both  of  them  considered  it  a  bad  job. 

Pah-ghee  put  one  arm  over  the  pony's  neck 
and  stared  out  upon  the  water,  wondering 
how  he  should  get  home  with  his  important 
news,  and  with  the  great  glory  of  finding  it. 
A  little  distance  out  stuck  up  a  huge  trunk  of 
a  cottonwood-tree,  drifted  down  and  strand 
ed  there.  Other  and  smaller  logs  had  drifted 
against  it  and  stuck;  but  upon  the  big  log 
was  a  fellow  who  had  come  to  give  Pah-ghee 
some  good  advice.  He  was  a  big  mud- 
turtle,  and  pretended  to  have  crawled  up 
there  to  get  the  last  sunshine  of  that  hot  day. 
70 


ONE  LITTLE   INDIAN 

He  sat  and  looked  at  Pah-ghee  and  the  pony 
until  he  felt  sure  they  were  looking  at  him. 
Then  he  turned  around  and  crawled  over 
upon  one  of  the  smaller  logs ;  then  he  twisted 
and  looked  at  Pah-ghee  again,  and  then  he 
plunged  into  the  river  and  got  away. 

"Ugh!"  exclaimed  Pah-ghee.  "Get  back 
to  band  that  way." 

He  knew  that  if  he  should  try  to  ride 
around  the  blue-coats  he  would  surely  be  seen 
and  followed,  or  be  caught  or  be  shot,  before 
he  could  escape,  for  there  were  rocks  to  force 
him  near  them.  The  idea  of  losing  his  pony 
had  something  mournful  in  it,  but  he  took 
off  the  bridle  so  as  not  to  lose  the  costliest 
part  of  his  outfit.  There  was  no  saddle  to 
lose.  The  pony  drooped  his  yellow  head  and 
began  to  eat  grass,  and  Pah-ghee  sat  down  to 
wait  until  it  should  become  dark  enough  for 
him  to  do  a  deed  worthy  of  a  chief  and  a 
warrior.  It  was  altogether  too  big  a  deed 
for  a  thin  little  Indian  like  him,  but  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  do  it. 

The  cavalry  built  their  camp-fires,  and 
posted  their  sentries  and  pickets,  and  the 
71 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

officer  in  command  ate  his  supper  with  a 
mind  full  of  wonder  as  to  when  and  where  he 
should  find  and  punish  Red  Bird  and  his  very 
bad  band  of  horse-thieves.  It  grew  dark 
rapidly  after  sunset,  but  Pah-ghee's  pony 
could  still  see  to  eat  at  the  moment  when 
his  master  deserted  him.  The  turbid  river 
swept  by  with  a  gurgle  that  was  almost  a 
roar,  because  it  was  the  only  sound  in  all 
that  silence.  Pah -ghee  secured  his  bridle 
and  bow  and  arrows  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
walked  out  into  the  water.  It  was  shallow 
for  a  few  rods,  but  just  before  he  reached  the 
drifted  logs  he  was  compelled  to  swim.  He 
had  carefully  noted  one  of  the  smaller  logs, 
and  found  it  easily.  He  shoved  it  away  from 
the  rest,  and  crept  upon  it,  and  it  just  kept 
his  light  body  above  the  surface.  With  a 
long  branch  of  drift-wood  to  balance  and 
paddle  with,  it  was  not  a  hard  task  to  get 
away  from  the  rest  of  the  logs,  and  let  the 
Yellowstone  River  do  the  rest. 

The  river  took  up  the  job  with  a  great  rush 
and  a  muddy  chuckle,  and  Pah-ghee  went 
whirling  away  down-stream  at  the  rate  of 
72 


ONE   LITTLE   INDIAN 

six  miles  an  hour.  It  was  necessary  to  travel 
fast,  for  the  distance  by  water  was  twice  as 
great  as  the  distance  by  land,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  channel  of  the  Yellowstone  is 
laid  out  upon  the  plan  of  a  ram's  horn,  or  of  a 
continual  succession  of  them. 

No  danger  to  the  camp  had  been  appre 
hended  from  the  river -side  of  it,  and  no 
sentries  were  posted  there,  but  several  sol 
diers  were  strolling  up  and  down  the  bank 
when  Pah-ghee's  log  came  along.  They  had 
seen  other  logs  go  down,  and  had  paid  them 
no  attention.  If  they  had  ordered  this  one 
to  halt,  it  could  not  have  done  so,  for  the 
Yellowstone  understood  the  matter.  It  kept 
Pah-ghee  nearly  in  the  middle,  and  put  on 
an  extra  burst  of  speed.  Pah-ghee  lay  as 
flat  as  he  could,  and  the  torrent  did  its  best 
for  him,  but  it  seemed  to  him  a  slow  kind  of  a 
river  after  all  until  he  was  past  the  camp-fires, 
and  had  not  been  seen  or  shot  at.  Then  he 
admitted  that  it  was  a  pretty  good  river,  and 
worked  his  paddle  branch  to  keep  himself 
steered  away  from  banks  and  drifting  trees. 
He  felt  that  he  was  doing  a  tremendous  thing, 
73 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

and  he  felt  it  more  and  more  deeply  as  hour 
after  hour  went  by  and  still  the  wild  water 
bore  him  swiftly  on.  He  knew  that  he  could 
at  any  time  steer  himself  near  enough  to  the 
shore  to  land  safely,  and  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  to  be  afraid.  He  had  plenty  of  time, 
too,  to  mourn  over  the  loss  of  his  pony,  and 
to  hope  that  Red  Bird  would  give  him  another. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  the  camp 
of  the  Sioux  band  was  startled  by  a  shrill 
whoop  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  Yel 
lowstone  itself,  and  that  was  answered  by 
the  prompt  barking  of  many  dogs.  Warrior 
after  warrior  sprang  to  his  feet  just  in  time 
to  see  a  very  thin  squaw  dart  past  him  ex 
claiming,  " Pah-ghee!  Pah-ghee!  Pah-ghee!" 

It  was  but  a  few  minutes  after  that  when 
a  dusky-looking  circle  of  braves  stood  around 
Red  Bird  while  he  listened  to  the  report  of  his 
successful  young  scout.  His  first  remark 
was  made  to  all  of  them :  "  Red  Bird  is  a  great 
chief!  Ugh!  Pah-ghee  lost  his  pony.  Made 
river  into  pony  to  come  back.  Be  big  brave 
some  day.  Give  him  two  ponies.  Know 
just  what  to  do  now." 
74 


ONE   LITTLE   INDIAN 

He  took  it  for  granted  that  the  cavalry 
would  come  straight  down  the  river  after  him, 
and  so  he  must  go  up  the  river  to  get  away 
from  them.  He  could  not  cross  it,  but  he 
could  make  a  wide  circuit  around  the  rocky 
and  broken  stretch,  through  a  pass  he  knew, 
and  get  back  to  the  bank  again,  just  where 
the  blue-coats  had  struck  it.  He  was,  as  he 
said,  a  great  and  wise  chief,  for  by  so  doing 
he  mystified  his  pursuers  entirely  and  got 
away  from  them  for  that  time.  Four  days 
afterwards  there  was  an  Indian  camp  on  the 
spot  where  the  cavalry  had  been  when  Pah- 
ghee  rode  by  them  on  the  Yellowstone.  While 
the  rest  of  the  band  were  doing  something 
else,  Pah-ghee  and  his  mother  rode  away 
as  if  they  were  hunting  for  something.  They 
rode  until  they  came  to  a  deep  gully  leading 
down  to  the  water,  and  they  found  a  pony 
there.  He  had  ceased  eating  grass  for  a 
moment,  and  was  looking  hard  at  a  terrapin 
on  a  log  out  in  the  water.  Pah-ghee  gave 
a  whoop,  and  his  mother  helped  him,  and 
the  pony  whinnied  vigorously.  He  turned 
and  trotted  straight  towards  them.  They 
75 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

had  three  ponies  now,  and  Pah-ghee  had 
earned  fame,  and  was  considered  a  boy  not 
to  be  carelessly  thrown  away.  He  was  also 
called  by  a  name  that  meant  "The  young 
brave  that  rode  down  the  river  on  a  log  all 
night."  If  a  loosely  made  lumber  wagon 
were  to  be  loaded  with  empty  barrels  and 
run  away  with  over  a  stony  road,  a  yard  of 
that  noise,  with  a  cough  in  the  middle  and 
at  each  end,  would  sound  a  good  deal  like 
that  name,  but  his  mother  was  proud  of  it, 
and  never  called  him  by  any  other. 


LAWSON'S     INVESTMENT 
The  Hero  of  an  Apache  Raid 


begin  with,  it  was  not  an  in 
vestment  of  gold  or  silver  in 
land  or  bonds,  or  any  of  those 
things  for  which  men  vainly  toil 
and  strive,  in  constant  peril  of  their  souls. 
Of  all  that,  I  know  nothing.  I  am  simply 
to  tell  how  Lawson,  a  volunteer  soldier, 
defended  the  Cienega  Ranch  during  the  long 
hours  of  a  summer  day  against  a  band  of 
Mescalero  Apaches,  red-handed,  thirsting  for 
plunder,  and  bent  upon  his  destruction. 

I  have  said  that  Lawson  was  a  volunteer 

soldier.     If  I  rightly  understood  him,  he  was 

born  in  Ohio.     At  any  rate,  he  served  in  the 

Ohio  infantry,  and  enlisted  for  the  war,  with 

77 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

a  thousand  others,  in  the  early  fall  of  1861. 
By  rights  he  ought  to  have  been  drilled  and 
properly  set  up  and  disciplined  in  some  sort 
of  camp  of  instruction  in  Kentucky  or  south 
ern  Ohio,  but  there  was  no  time  for  that,  so 
great  was  the  need  for  men,  and  so  he  had 
to  acquire  his  manual  of  arms  and  other  mil 
itary  A  B  C's  in  the  field  from  day  to  day 
as  he  went  along.  Now  this  is  not  the  best 
way  nor  the  way  laid  down  in  the  books,  but 
it  was  the  only  way  for  Lawson,  and  what 
ever  may  be  said  against  it,  it  is  thorough 
and  to  the  last  degree  effective. 

In  the  raw  early  spring  of  1862,  Lawson's 
regiment,  still  rusty  in  its  deployings  and 
facings,  and  having  as  yet  no  abiding  knowl 
edge  of  the  goose  step,  began  its  campaign 
ing  in  west  Tennessee.  He  was  at  Donelson 
and  Shiloh,  and  later  got  his  first  lessons  in 
digging  and  the  use  of  the  head-log  at  the 
siege  of  Corinth.  After  that  was  over,  he 
marched  about,  hither  and  yon,  as  his  gen 
erals  wished — but  somewhat  aimlessly  as  he 
thought — in  northern  Mississippi.  This  sort 
of  thing  was  kept  up  all  through  the  fall  and 
78 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

winter  until  the  spring  came,  and  the  Army 
of  the  Tennessee  set  out  to  do  something  at 
Vicksburg.  He  did  his  share  of  digging  and 
fighting  in  the  hot  trenches  there,  and  then, 
just  as  the  cool  fall  breezes  were  beginning  to 
blow,  he  betook  himself  with  Sherman  to  the 
relief  of  his  beleaguered  comrades  at  Chat 
tanooga,  arriving  just  in  time  to  share  in 
Corse's  gallant  but  unfruitful  assault  upon 
the  north  end  of  Missionary  Ridge.  Always 
a  private,  he  missed  none  of  the  marching  or 
fighting  or  digging  of  the  Atlanta  campaign, 
and  closed  the  year  '64  with  the  long,  sweet- 
potato  walk  to  Savannah  and  the  sea.  Then 
he  waded  and  toiled  up  through  the  miry 
Carolina  s,  adding  not  a  little  to  his  military 
stature  and  to  his  stock  of  technical  war 
knowledge  in  the  way  of  corduroying  and 
trestle  bridges,  and  at  Bentonville  finished, 
as  he  had  begun,  a  private,  full  of  dearly 
bought  experience,  fuller  still  of  malaria,  an 
expert  in  all  the  arts  of  defence,  a  resolute 
and  resourceful  soldier,  who  had  been  tried 
on  many  an  emergent  occasion,  and  who  had 
stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  boys 
6  79 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

whenever  they  lined  up  at  the  sound  of  the 
long-roll  or  rushed  to  the  parapet  to  repel 
the  assaults  of  the  enemy. 

At  last,  when  the  whole  thing  was  over, 
and  he  had  been  paid  off  and  discharged,  and 
had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  little  that 
was  coming  to  him  in  seeing  the  great  world 
that  lay  between  Pittsburg  and  Columbus, 
Lawson  fared  back  to  the  peaceful  Maumee 
Valley,  with  his  chills  and  fever  and  his 
slender  resources,  only  to  find  himself  a  sort 
of  living  vacancy  in  the  body-politic. .  Look 
where  he  would,  there  seemed  to  be  no  place 
open  for  an  old  soldier  like  him  in  the  changed 
order  of  things  that  somehow  seemed  to  pre 
vail  in  the  little  community  which  he  called 
his  home.  He  was  in  no  sense  a  "hustler," 
he  had  no  trade  but  war,  no  capital  save  his 
strong  arms  and  an  honest  heart,  and  no 
powerful  friends  to  push  him  in  any  direction, 
and  so,  after  many  disappointments,  it  came 
about  that  he  drifted  down  to  Cincinnati, 
and  there  enlisted  in  the  regular  army.  He 
had  served  side  by  side  with  the  regulars  for 
four  long  years,  and  they  were  now  the  only 
80 


LAWSON'S    INVESTMENT 

folk  with  whose  goings  and  comings  he  was 
familiar;  and  for  the  first  time  since  his  dis 
charge  he  felt  at  home  among  the  lean  in 
fantrymen  as  he  ate  his  bacon  and  beans  in 
the  company  kitchen,  and  took  his  turn  at 
guard,  as  he  had  been  used  to  do,  or  dis 
cussed  the  characters  of  his  generals  with  the 
old  men  who  had  served  under  them  when 
they  were  lieutenants  in  Mexico,  in  the  hazy 
days  before  the  war,  when  men's  minds  were 
at  peace  and  soldiering  a  trade  worth  think 
ing  of. 

The  days  rolled  into  weeks  and  months. 
There  was  little  to  do,  there  were  many  to  do 
it,  and  he  was  content,  ay,  happy — happier 
than  he  had  been  at  any  time,  that  he  could 
remember,  since  the  winter  quarters  at  Chat 
tanooga,  after  the  blockade  was  broken  and 
fresh  beef  and  soft  bread  were  issued  every 
day.  But  this  was  altogether  too  good  a 
thing  to  last,  and  the  end  came  one  day  when 
a  big  detachment  of  ex-deserters  and  bounty- 
jumpers  were  assigned  to  the  Fourteenth, 
and  the  good  times  were  gone  forever.  To 
Lawson  it  was  an  enigma,  and  he  gave  it  up, 
81 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

but  it  came  about  in  this  way:  When  the 
great  volunteer  armies  were  disbanded  and 
sent  to  their  homes,  there  remained  on  hand 
a  residuum  of  deserters  and  men  without 
souls,  who  had  been  bought  with  a  price, 
but  who  belonged  to  no  regiment,  and  so 
were  kept  in  pay  when  the  rest  were  mustered 
out  and  discharged.  Of  a  sudden  it  occurred 
to  the  powers  that  this  unpromising  material 
might  be  put  to  some  use  in  filling  the  de 
pleted  ranks  of  the  regular  army. 

But  fire  and  water  will  not  mix,  and  if 
honest  dough-boys  be  shaken  together  with 
such  sons  of  Belial  the  regimental  traditions 
will  suffer,  and  discipline  will  surely  come 
to  naught.  And  so  it  happened  that  the  old 
Fourteenth  had  to  undergo  all  the  pangs  of 
dyspepsia  before  it  could  make  way  with  the 
indigestible  mass  that  had  thus  been  cast 
upon  it.  There  is  no  telling  what  dire  hap 
pening  would  have  come  to  the  regiment  had 
this  state  of  things  been  allowed  to  continue 
indefinitely.  A  period  was  put  to  it  at  last, 
however,  by  a  telegram,  which  came  to  the 
commanding  officer  at  dead  of  night,  trans- 
82 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

f erring  the  Fourteenth  to  Arizona.  Then  it 
was  that  the  deserters  and  bounty -jumpers 
held  council  of  the  situation,  and  being  of 
one  mind  as  to  the  unpleasing  outlook,  took 
wing  and  troubled  the  service  no  more,  and 
the  old  Fourteenth,  weaker  in  numbers  but 
stronger  in  men  than  it  had  been  since 
Fredericksburg,  was  landed  at  Yuma,  where 
it  was  appointed  to  garrison  the  abandoned 
posts  and  protect  the  overland  mail  from  the 
depredations  of  the  Apaches,  who  had  been 
working  their  will  of  late  upon  the  unpro 
tected  settlements  in  southeastern  Arizona. 
Here,  taking  his  chances  with  the  rest,  and 
doing  his  full  share  of  escort  and  fatigue, 
Lawson  served  "honestly  and  faithfully,"  as 
it  ran  in  his  discharge  papers,  until  his  term 
expired  and  he  was  a  free  man  again.  And 
then  it  was  that  he  went  up  to  keep  the 
mail  station  at  the  Cienega. 

II 

The  Cienega,  or,  to  give  the  place  its  full 
name,  the  Cienega  de  las  Pimas,  was  a  low- 
83 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

lying,  swampy  valley  through  which  a  small 
stream  ran,  alternately  rising  and  sinking 
after  the  manner  of  creeks  and  rivers  in 
Arizona.  To  the  west,  twenty-eight  miles 
away,  was  the  pueblo  of  Tucson,  a  cathedral 
town,  once  the  capital  of  the  territory.  To 
the  east,  twenty-two  miles  distant,  was  the 
middle  crossing  of  the  San  Pedro.  To  the 
north  there  was  nothing;  while  to  the  south 
were  the  Whetstone  Mountains,  then  old 
Camp  Walleu,  the  Patagonia  Mine,  and  Old 
Mexico.  The  Cienega  itself  was  flat,  infested 
with  all  manner  of  poisonous  vermin,  sub 
merged  in  the  rainy  season,  and  miry  and 
impassable,  in  a  military  sense,  at  all  times. 
It  was  also  malarial,  and  to  the  last  degree 
unlovely  to  the  eye.  A  few  dead  cotton- 
wood-trees,  upon  which  the  owls  creaked  at 
sunset,  rose  stiffly  here  and  there  out  of  the 
general  dead  level  of  sacaton  grass  and  chap 
arral,  while  the  tarantula  and  centipede  and 
the  ubiquitous  rattlesnake  reserved  to  their 
unhallowed  uses  the  moist,  impenetrable 
depths  below. 

The  station  had  been  located  jtist  where 
84 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

it  was  because  it  broke  into  two  fairly  equal 
parts  the  long  fifty-mile  drive  from  Tucson 
to  the  crossings  of  the  San  Pedro.  Wagon 
trains  and  occasional  parties  of  prospectors 
or  travellers  camped  at  the  Cienega  on  their 
way  to  the  White  Mountains,  or  to  the  Apache 
Pass  and  New  Mexico,  and  from  their  small 
needs  in  the  way  of  refreshment  for  man  and 
beast  Lawson  and  his  partner  eked  out  an 
extremely  moderate  existence.  At  very  rare 
intervals  a  troop  of  regular  cavalry  passed 
that  way,  and  the  ranchmen  ministered  to 
its  needs  in  the  way  of  long  forage  to  the 
extent  of  twenty  dollars  or  more.  These 
were  red  -  letter  days  for  Lawson  —  a  very 
gold-mine,  indeed — and  led  him  to  hope  that, 
sometime  in  the  uncertain  future,  he  might 
be  able  to  leave  the  Cienega  forever,  and  go 
back  to  Ohio,  where  green  grass  and  tall  trees 
grew,  where  churches  and  kindred  were,  and 
where  he  might,  perhaps,  take  a  new  start 
in  life  in  a  land  beyond  the  dim  eastern 
mountains,  where  pistols  were  not,  and  where 
civilization  flourished  throughout  the  year. 
This  was  a  dream  that  came  to  Lawson  in 

85 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

the  night  when  a  big  escort  camped  at  the 
Cienega  and  he  could  eat  and  sleep  in  peace. 
No  one  who  knows  Arizona  need  be  told 
that  the  Apaches  were  particularly  bad  in 
the  early  seventies.  No  place  outside  the 
towns  or  beyond  the  lines  of  the  garrisoned 
forts  was  safe  from  their  incursions.  Dep 
redations  were  of  daily  occurrence,  and 
ceased  only  when  there  were  no  white  men 
left  to  kill  and  no  horses  or  cattle  to  steal 
and  carry  away.  A  single  traveller  jour 
neyed  south  of  the  Gila  and  east  of  the 
Santa  Cruz,  not  simply  at  his  peril,  but  to 
certain,  inevitable  death.  It  was  the  same 
with  two,  or  three ;  if  four  travelled  together, 
they  had  a  running  chance  to  escape  if  the 
marauding  party  was  less  than  ten,  or  if  the 
attack  came  within  an  hour  of  darkness.  On 
the  whole,  the  best  local  judgment,  both  civil 
and  military,  was  that  five  persons,  alert, 
fully  armed,  and,  above  all,  judiciously  scat 
tered  along  the  trail,  were  the  smallest  com 
pany  that  could  venture  into  the  country 
ranged  over  by  the  Mescalero  or  Chiricahui 
Indians  with  any  chance  of  getting  out  alive. 
86 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

The  roads  were  dotted  with  the  graves  of 
those  who  had  paid,  with  their  lives,  the 
awful  penalty  of  being  too  venturesome,  and 
the  isolated  ranches  were  heavily  barred  and 
otherwise  defended  against  the  common  ene 
my.  The  Cienega  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule;  indeed,  on  account  of  its  perilous  sit 
uation,  it  had  one  or  two  defensive  features 
which  less-exposed  ranches  lacked,  and  which 
I  shall  presently  describe.  Partly  because  it 
was  located  near  the  junction  of  several  large 
north  and  south  Indian  trails,  and  partly 
because  of  the  ease  with  which  it  could  be 
approached  from  the  dense  chaparral,  it  was 
always  surrounded  by  hostile  Apaches,  and 
its  occupants  went  in  and  out  under  their 
constant  observation. 

The  ranch  building  proper,  for  there  was 
but  one,  stood  on  the  east  bank  of  the  muddy 
creek,  just  above  where  the  old  overland 
stage-road  had  managed  to  find  a  practicable 
crossing.  As  the  trail  left  the  ford,  it  wound 
sharply  up  the  slope  and  passed  between  the 
ranch  building  and  a  huge  outcrop  of  volcanic 
rocks  which  stood  directly  opposite  the  main 
87  ' 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

entrance  to  the  inner  court,  or  corral.  This 
pile  of  rocks  had  been  regarded  as  having 
some  defensive  value  when  the  ranch  was 
built,  apparently  with  the  idea  that,  in  the 
event  of  an  attack,  it  might  serve  as  a  kind  of 
outwork  which  could  be  defended  for  several 
hours  before  the  garrison  would  be  compelled 
to  fall  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  ranch  proper. 
It  was  also  so  situated  that,  in  case  of  siege, 
a  small  party  could  sally  out  of  the  main 
building  and  find  cover  behind  the  rocks  long 
enough  to  enable  its  defenders  to  get  a  supply 
of  water  from  the  creek. 

The  enclosure,  which  was  rectangular  in 
plan,  measured  about  sixty  feet  on  each  front 
or  side.  The  middle  of  the  front  wall,  facing 
the  north,  was  pierced  by  a  sally-port,  or 
en  trance  way,  about  fifteen  feet  in  width, 
which  was  closed  by  a  heavy  oaken  gate. 
In  conformity  to  the  style  of  domestic  archi 
tecture  prevailing  in  all  Spanish-American 
countries,  where  life  and  property  are  less 
safe  than  they  are  in  the  lands  more  favored 
of  Heaven  where  the  Anglo-Saxon  dwells, 
this  gateway  was  the  only  means  by  which 
88 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

an  entrance  could  be  effected,  as  the  other 
walls  were  without  openings  of  any  kind  save 
those  which  looked  upon  the  inner  court. 
The  rudely  constructed  interior  can  be  quick 
ly  described.  On  the  east  side  of  the  en 
trance  was  a  large  living-room  some  twerrty 
feet  square ;  on  the  west  were  several  smaller 
rooms  for  horse-gear  and  the  storage  of 
grain.  The  other  three  sides  were  roofed, 
but  not  otherwise  enclosed,  and  were  used 
as  stables. 

At  the  southeast  corner,  opposite  the 
living-room,  Lawson  had  built  a  circular 
flanking  tower,  which  projected  a  little  more 
than  three  feet  beyond  the  outer  walls,  and 
from  this  corner  tower,  which  was  loop-holed, 
the  east  and  south  sides  of  the  enclosure 
could  be  raked  or  flanked.  It  was  a  novel 
construction,  and  Mexican  cargadors,  wrap 
ped  in  their  serapes  of  manta,  sat  squat  on 
their  haunches  and  soberly  regarded  it  for 
hours,  wondering  at  the  Gringo's  strange 
conceit  in  building.  Curious  travellers  cas 
ually  observed  it  in  passing,  and  thought 
it  a  spring-house,  or  perhaps  a  place  where 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

whiskey  and  other  precious  valuables  could 
be  safely  deposited ;  but  none,  even  the  most 
inquisitive,  suspected  its  real  purpose  or 
gave  it  a  moment's  serious  thought.  We 
shall  presently  see,  however,  how  useful  it 
proved  to  be. 

The  living-room  was  simple  and  plain  to 
the  last  degree.  In  the  first  place,  there  was 
a  fireplace  of  adobe,  at  which  all  the  cooking 
was  done;  there  were  two  rude  bunks,  in 
which  Lawson  and  his  partner  slept,  and 
there  was  a  rough  table,  made  out  of  a  dis 
carded  hardtack  box,  which  stood  under  the 
window  overlooking  the  interior  court.  These, 
with  a  half-dozen  stout  chairs  with  rawhide 
seats,  completed  the  scanty  array  of  furni 
ture. 

Each  man  wore  a  pistol  and  a  thimble- 
belt  always,  and  was  never  far  from  a  re 
peating  Winchester  rifle.  At  the  head  of 
each  bed,  ready  for  instant  use,  stood  a  per 
fect  arsenal  of  weapons  of  all  dates  and 
calibers.  Some  were  modern,  and  likely  to 
be  of  service  in  an  emergency,  the  rest  were 
antiquated  and  obsolete,  mere  bric-a-brac 
90 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

indeed,  and  were  kept  because,  as  Lawson 
put  it,  "they  might  come  in  handy  some 
time." 

Ill 

So,  as  the  matter  stood,  the  garrison — 
that  is,  Lawson  and  his  partner  Green,  an 
ex-Confederate  from  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  —  had  thought  the  thing  all  over, 
and  settled  in  their  minds  that,  in  the  event 
of  an  attack,  they  would  proceed  in  this 
way:  If  the  attack  came  from  the  north, 
which  was  by  all  odds  the  most  exposed 
and  dangerous  quarter,  they  would  first 
hold  the  rock  outwork  to  the  last  extrem 
ity.  It  was  agreed  between  them  that  their 
principal  danger  would  consist  in  an  at 
tempt  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  to  scale 
the  walls,  either  to  make  a  lodgement  on  the 
roof  or  to  set  it  on  fire.  Now  if  such  an 
attempt  happened  to  be  made  on  the  east 
or  south  side,  which  was  commanded  by  the 
flanking  tower,  the  garrison  would  be  heard 
from,  and  serious  injury  might  be  inflicted 
upon  the  assailants — enough,  perhaps,  to 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

hold  them  in  check  until  the  mail-drivers, 
who  passed  daily  in  either  direction,  could 
carry  the  alarm  to  the  regular  cavalry  posts 
at  Tucson  and  the  Apache  Pass.  It  should 
be  said,  however,  that  so  much  of  the  part 
ners'  ingenious  plan  of  defence  as  depended 
upon  the  arrival  of  a  mail-rider  was,  at  best, 
a  feeble  reliance,  as  they  were  more  likely  to 
be  killed  than  not  in  the  event  of  an  attack ; 
but,  feeble  as  it  was,  it  was  all  that  seemed 
to  stand  between  the  occupants  of  the  ranch 
and  a  lingering  death  by  torture,  should  the 
Apaches  conclude  to  make  a  descent  in  force 
upon  the  Cienega;  and  thus  matters  stood 
just  before  sunrise  on  the  morning  of  the 
2ist  of  July,  1870. 

It  was  then  that  the  attack  came.  At 
the  gray  of  dawn,  Green,  who  was  astir  feed 
ing  the  animals,  as  was  his  custom,  fancied 
that  he  heard  some  suspicious  noises  among 
the  hogs  who  were  hunting  young  rattlesnakes 
in  the  big  rock  pile  in  front  of  the  main  door. 
Seizing  his  rifle,  he  unfastened  the  gate  and 
stole  cautiously  out  across  the  road,  and 
pushed  up,  under  cover  of  the  bowlders,  to  a 
92 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

point  of  vantage  from  which  he  could  over 
look  the  swamp  lying  to  the  northward. 
He  had  hardly  reached  shelter  when  two 
sharp  reports  rang  out  in  the  still  morning 
air,  not  from  the  swamp  in  front,  but  from  the 
road  at  his  right  and  rear!  Green's  soldierly 
instinct  told  him  what  this  meant,  and  before 
the'reports  had  ceased  to  echo  he  plunged 
back  across  the  road  and  shot  through  the 
big  gate  in  safety.  As  Green  sped  through 
the  storm  of  bullets,  closely  followed  by  an 
athletic  warrior,  he  felt  the  hot  breath  of 
a  rifle -ball  from  his  partner's  Winchester, 
which  brought  down  his  pursuer  stone-dead 
well  within  the  entrance  -  gate.  The  long- 
looked-for  attack  had  come,  and  the  first 
brief  passage  at  arms  was  over.  Save  that 
their  skins  were  whole,  the  partners  had  but 
little  to  congratulate  themselves  upon.  The 
first  step  in  their  carefully  elaborated  plan  of 
defence  had  utterly  miscarried.  Green  had 
been  compelled  by  a  flank  attack  to  abandon 
the  outwork  without  even  an  attempt  at 
resistance.  Lawson  had  tried  to  shut  the 
gate,  but  had  failed,  and  it  was  now  too  late 
93 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

to  undertake  so  dangerous  a  task  under  the 
rifles  of  a  score  or  more  of  Apache  warriors, 
who,  from  their  perches  in  the  rocks,  now 
fully  commanded  every  approach  to  the 
building  from  the  north. 

So  the  partners  fell  back  towards  the  south 
wall  of  the  enclosure,  and  established  them 
selves  among  the  kicking-posts,  in  a  position 
from  which  they  could  still  command  the 
half-open  gateway.  It  would  now  seem  as 
if  the  Indians  had  it  in  their  power  to  carry 
the  building  by  a  single  bold  rush  through 
the  entrance  -  gate ;  and  that  is  precisely 
what  would  have  happened  had  the  attack 
ing  party  been  composed  of  white  men  or  of 
Sioux  Indians  or  Cheyennes — or  Nez  Perces, 
for  that  matter — but  the  Apache  is  a  brutal 
coward,  and  doesn't  do  things  that  way. 
With  him  the  taking  of  human  life  is  always 
a  means  to  an  end.  His  first  object  is  plun 
der,  and  he  kills  whatever  stands  between 
him  and  the  object  of  his  unholy  desire.  But 
he  does  nothing  blindly  or  without  carefully 
calculating  all  the  chances,  so  as  to  eliminate 
or  reduce  to  a  minimum  the  risk  of  losing  his 
94 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

own  worthless  life  or  those  of  his  companions 
in  iniquity.  A  marauding  party  will  spend 
hours  in  planning  the  murder  of  a  mail-rider, 
and  will  arrange  every  detail  with  such  dev 
ilish  cunning  as  to  leave  their  victim  abso 
lutely  no  loophole  of  escape. 

And  this,  strangely  enough,  was  Lawson's 
present  salvation.  The  Indians  did  not 
know  how  many  men  there  were  in  the 
ranch,  or  how  they  were  posted.  Until  they 
had  gained  this  information,  the  partners 
could  count  upon  it  that  there  would  be  no 
assault  by  way  of  the  half-closed  gate,  as  it 
shut  out  from  view  more  than  half  of  the 
interior  of  the  court.  A  thorough  knowl 
edge  of  their  wily  enemies,  however,  served 
to  determine  the  next  step  in  their  scheme 
of  defence.  It  is  a  dogma  of  the  Apache's 
crude  and  grewsome  religious  belief  that 
some  dire  happening  will  befall  the  band  that 
leaves  its  dead  in  the  hands  of  an  enemy. 
Now  Green's  pursuer,  carried  forward  by  the 
tremendous  pace  at  which  he  was  running, 
had  fallen,  as  we  have  seen,  well  within  the 
gateway,  and  his  dead  body  was  stretched 
7  95 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

out  in  full  view  of  the  partners  from  their 
station  in  the  corral.  It  was  certain  as  any 
thing  in  Apache  warfare  could  be  that  the 
next  move  of  the  enemy  would  be  to  recover 
the  body  of  the  dead  Indian.  The  only  ques 
tion  was  as  to  whether,  in  making  the  at 
tempt,  they  would  charge  in  considerable 
force  or  intrust  the  difficult  task  to  the 
prowess  of  a  single  warrior. 

The  garrison  had  not  long  to  wait.  There 
was  a  hurried  conference  among  the  rocks, 
a  scratching  of  moccasined  feet  on  the  hard 
clay  without  the  gate,  and  then  the  notes  of 
the  death-song  rose  on  the  morning  breeze  as 
a  lusty  warrior  made  a  dash  for  the  body  of 
his  comrade.  As  he  bent  to  lift  his  ghastly 
burden,  he  fell  under  the  sight  of  Lawson's 
rifle  and  dropped  across  the  lifeless  body  of 
his  companion.  There  were  now  two  dead 
Apaches  in  the  gateway  under  control  of  the 
partners'  rifles,  and  to  Lawson's  mind  the 
next  move  of  the  enemy  was  perfectly  clear. 
For  their  souls'  peace,  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
must  be  gotten  back  at  all  hazards.  The 
attempt  was  only  a  question  of  time,  and  of  a 
96 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

short  time  at  that.  The  only  hope  in  the 
situation  for  the  partners  was  that  the  rush, 
when  it  came,  would  be  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  recovering  the  bodies,  and  that  the  Ind 
ians  would  not  succeed  at  the  same  time  in 
gaining  a  view  of  the  defenceless  interior. 
And  so,  as  matters  stood,  if  the  partners 
could  in  some  way  manage  to  delay  the  re 
covery  of  the  bodies,  there  would  be  so  much 
time  gained,  and  they  would  increase  to  that 
extent  their  slender  chance  of  relief.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  the  outlook  was  far 
from  cheerful.  The  cloudless  sky  glared  over 
them,  and  the  stifling  heat  reflected  from 
the  white  clay  floor  penetrated  every  corner 
of  the  enclosure  as  the  morning  hours  slow 
ly  burned  themselves  away.  An  ominous 
silence  reigned  without  everywhere,  and  nei 
ther  sight  nor  sound  came  from  the  enemy 
to  relieve  the  consuming  anxiety  of  the  be 
leaguered  garrison. 

Through    the    partly    open    gate    nothing 

could  be  seen  of  what  was  happening  outside, 

for  a  chopping-log  intervened  in  such  a  way 

as  to  shut  out  from  their  view  the  narrow 

97 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

opening  under  the  gate,  between  its  lower 
rail  and  the  ground.  As  the  sun  rose  higher 
and  began  to  light  up  the  dark  passageway 
leading  out  of  the  enclosure,  it  occurred  to 
Green  that  by  moving  down  a  stall  or  two 
nearer  the  front  it  would  be  just  possible 
for  him  to  see  out,  under  the  gate,  from  be 
yond  the  end  of  the  chopping-log,  and  thus, 
perhaps,  get  some  notion  of  the  movements  of 
the  enemy.  And  so,  quietly  communicating 
his  intention  to  his  comrade,  he  cautiously 
pulled  himself  along  by  the  hay-racks  to 
gain  his  point  of  view. 

Just  as  he  was  straining  his  neck  to  get 
sight  of  the  opening  under  the  gate,  he  was 
brought  to  his  feet  by  a  shot  from  his  part 
ner's  Winchester,  only  to  find  that  his  ma 
noeuvre  was  too  late — the  bodies  of  the  Ind 
ians  were  gone!  Lawson,  who  was  standing 
erect,  had  seen  the  bodies  begin  to  move, 
and  had  fired  somewhat  at  random,  in  the 
hope  of  preventing  their  recovery.  He  was 
not  successful,  however,  and  he  could  only 
look  on  as  they  slowly  disappeared  from  his 
view.  The  partners  looked  at  each  other  in 
98 


LAWSON  S  INVESTMENT 

silence.  Each  changed  his  tobacco  slightly 
and  tightened  his  thimble-belt,  but  other 
wise  made  no  sign.  Both  knew  only  too  well 
what  the  movement  meant.  It  was  now  a 
matter  of  watching  out  the  day,  not  knowing 
when  or  in  what  form  the  direful  end  would 
come.  It  seemed  idle  to  count  upon  any 
thing  in  the  shape  of  relief  from  the  mail- 
drivers,  who  were  really  in  greater  peril  than 
themselves,  as  the  Indians  were  watching  the 
roads  for  some  distance  in  either  direction. 
More  than  this,  the  buckboard  from  the  west 
would  not  reach  the  Cienega  until  midnight, 
while  the  driver  from  the  San  Pedro  cross 
ing,  though  due  just  after  dark,  if  he  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  escape  with  his  life,  would 
have  a  stiff  hundred  -  mile  drive  to  double 
back  to  the  cavalry  post  at  Apache  Pass. 
They  knew  that  Colonel  Stan  wood,  its  able 
and  resolute  commander,  would  start  at  the 
first  note  of  alarm,  and  ride  hard  and  fast  to 
their  relief;  but  push  as  he  might,  the  dis 
tance  was  great,  and  the  better  part  of  twenty- 
four  hours  would  be  consumed  in  covering 
the  hot  hundred-mile  march  across  a  water- 
99 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

less  desert  that  lay  between  his  post  and  the 
beleaguered  garrison  at  the  Cienega. 


IV 

The  sun  grew  hotter,  the  blinding  glare 
increased,  the  morning  breeze  fell  away,  and 
not  a  sound  from  the  enemy  reached  the  in 
tent  ears  of  Lawson  and  his  comrade.  The 
hours  dragged  heavily  along  until  the  sun 
stood  past  noon,  and  still  the  partners  kept 
their  weary  vigil,  and  strained  eye  and  ear  for 
some  sign  or  sound  of  the  enemy.  Their 
continued  silence  was  felt  by  the  garrison 
to  be  due  to  the  fact  that  part  of  the  Ind 
ians  had  gone  some  distance  away  to  bury 
their  dead  in  the  rocks,  or  hide  them  from 
view  in  the  dark  fastnesses  of  the  swamp; 
but  when  and  in  what  manner  they  would 
renew  the  assault  was  still  a  mystery  past 
their  solving. 

Suddenly,  an  hour  or  more  past  midday, 
Lawson,  who  had  crawled  down  towards  the 
living-room  in  quest  of  water,  heard  a  faint, 
grating  sound  which  seemed  to  come  from 

100 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 


the  top  of  the  corral  wall  uponJ  which  the  flat 
roof  of  the  stable  rested:  „  Springfing;,  k&<$$  • 
into  the  corner  tower,  and  adjusting  his  eye 
to  the  loophole,  the  plan  of  the  assailants 
could  be  seen  at  a  glance.  The  Indians  had 
brought  a  light  cottonwood  log  from  the  ruins 
of  a  disused  bridge,  a  mile  or  more  up  the 
road,  and  were  now  attempting  to  scale  the 
wall  with  a  view  to  setting  fire  to  the  rough 
thatch  which  covered  the  stables  at  the  north 
eastern  corral.  As  LawTson  reached  the  loop 
hole  an  athletic  Apache  had  succeeded  in 
reaching  the  top  of  the  wall,  while  two  of 
his  fellows,  standing  on  the  ground,  held  the 
pole  steadily  between  them  as  their  com 
panion  climbed.  It  seemed  never  to  have 
entered  their  heads  that  their  movements 
could  be  observed  from  the  flanking- tower, 
or  that  they  were  in  danger  from  any  other 
quarter  than  the  entrance-gate  in  the  north 
wall  of  the  enclosure.  They  were  now  to  get 
their  first  lesson  in  civilized  warfare,  and  a 
sorrowful  lesson  it  was  to  be  for  the  scaling 
party. 

Taking  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  Lawson 

101 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

L  \.        •**•  .v  >  c  - '  "    " 

summoned  his  comrade  with  a  gesture,  and 
:tbey5, quickly^, agreed  upon  their  plan.  The 
loophole  in  the  north  side  of  the  tower,  which 
commanded  a  view  of  the  assaulting  party, 
was  about  eighteen  inches  high  and  hardly 
more  than  two  inches  wide  at  the  outside, 
but  as  it  entered  the  wall  it  flared  or  opened 
to  a  width  of  nearly  a  foot  in  order  to  give 
the  defenders  a  greater  field  of  fire.  To  in 
sure  the  greatest  results,  both  were  to  fire 
together.  Lawson,  who  was  the  taller  of  the 
two  men,  was  to  fire  from  the  top  of  the  loop 
hole,  and  was  to  bring  down  the  Indian  wrho 
had  climbed  the  pole  and  had  just  succeeded 
in  starting  a  little  blaze  in  the  dry  tulle  grass 
at  the  edge  of  the  loosely  thatched  roof. 
Green,  who  was  to  give  the  signal,  was  to  fire 
below  Lawson,  and  was  to  wait  until  his  sights 
covered  the  two  Apaches  who  were  steadying 
the  pole.  It  seemed  to  Lawson,  whose  task 
was  easy,  as  if  the  signal  would  never  come. 
First  one  Indian  would  stoop  to  adjust  his 
hold,  then  the  other  would  move  forward; 
then  for  an  instant  both  would  cross  each 
other  as  they  strove  to  keep  the  pole  from 
102 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

turning.  At  last,  after  what  seemed  an  age 
of  waiting,  the  warrior  at  the  top,  satisfied 
with  his  incendiary  endeavor,  signalled  to  his 
comrades  below  to  hold  fast  and  make  ready 
for  him  to  descend.  As  the  Indians  at  the 
bottom  braced  themselves  squarely  to  steady 
the  improvised  ladder,  the  signal  came,  and 
two  deafening  reports  rang  out  in  the  burning 
air,  filling  the  narrow  tower  with  smoke  so 
dense  as  for  a  time  to  conceal  the  enemy  from 
view.  As  the  smoke  slowly  cleared  away  the 
partners  anxiously  looked  out.  The  scaling 
party  were  nowhere  to  be  seen!  The  climber 
and  one  of  his  supporters  lay  dead  at  the  foot 
of  the  wall.  Above  them  the  thatch  was  be 
ginning  to  crackle  and  burn.  The  other  had 
disappeared  from  view,  but  the  sounds  of 
scurrying  feet  in  front  of  the  ranch,  how 
ever,  made  it  plain  to  the  little  garrison  that 
he  had  not  escaped  scot-free.  The  partners 
silently  shook  hands,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  the  investment  began  renewed  their 
chews  of  tobacco,  and  made  a  general  and 
deliberate  readjustment  of  their  clothing  and 
cartridge-belts. 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Assault  number  two  had  been  repulsed, 
and  the  Apaches  had  had  their  first  lesson  in 
modern  fortification.  But  they  were  apt 
pupils,  and,  as  will  presently  be  seen,  were 
to  apply  their  dearly  bought  knowledge  in  a 
manner  most  surprising  to  the  closely  be 
sieged  ranchmen.  Now  the  besetting  sin  of 
all  flanking  arrangements  is  the  "  dead  angle," 
well  known  to  all  military  men,  and  studious 
ly  avoided  by  them  in  all  defensive  construc 
tions.  A  bastion,  or  corner  tower,  intended  to 
bring  a  cross  or  raking  fire  along  the  exposed 
face  of  a  fort  or  a  field-work,  must  itself  be 
flanked  in  some  way,  else  its  defensive  value 
is  lost,  and  it  becomes  a  source  of  weakness 
to  the  besieged,  and  gives  a  great  and  positive 
advantage  to  the  besieger.  For  an  enemy 
may  approach  its  outer  or  unflanked  side 
with  impunity,  and  work  there  such  havoc 
as  he  wills;  and  to  this  space,  not  swept  by 
fire  from  any  other  part  of  the  work,  military 
men  have  given  the  name  of  "dead  angle." 

So  it  chanced  that  when  Lawson — who, 
as  we  have  seen,  had  not  been  trained  in  the 
schools — was  constructing  his  corner  tower, 
104 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

he  had  cut  loopholes  close  to  the  eastern  and 
southern  walls,  through  which  those  fronts 
might  be  raked  along  their  entire  length, 
but  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that,  by  omit 
ting  the  loopholes  in  the  outer  circumference 
of  his  tower,  he  left  a  large  dead  angle  against 
which  an  assault  could  be  brought  which  the 
garrison  would  be  utterly  powerless  to  hinder 
or  obstruct. 

The  Indians,  after  their  second  rebuff, 
seemed  to  have  again  gone  into  silent  com 
mittee  of  the  whole,  and  were  now  brewing 
another  scheme  of  assault  which  should  take 
into  account  the  white  man's  new  engine  of 
destruction.  The  sun  was  beginning  to  cast 
slanting  shadows  from  the  west,  but  the  heat 
and  glare  showed  no  sign  of  relenting,  and  the 
close  corner  tower  glowed  like  a  Jiving  fur 
nace.  As  the  Indians  seemed  to  have  given 
up  all  thought  of  an  assault  by  the  entrance- 
gate,  the  partners  determined  to  abandon  the 
general  defence  of  the  interior  and  restrict 
their  endeavors  to  the  flanking-tower.  And 
so,  panting  with  heat  and  tortured  by  thirst, 
the  defenders  stood  at  their  posts,  each 
105 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

watching  from  his  loophole  the  angle  of 
ground  outside  the  walls  that  fell  within  the 
limits  of  his  narrow  view,  and  waited,  stoical 
ly,  for  what  the  afternoon  was  to  bring  in 
the  way  of  unwelcome  or  dangerous  surprise. 
As  we  are  about  to  see,  the  outcome  of  their 
waiting  was  not  to  be  long  delayed. 

The  declining  shadows  marked  about  the 
hour  of  four  as  Lawson  drew  back  suddenly 
from  his  loophole  and  cast  a  searching  glance 
upward  at  the  low-hanging  roof.  In  a  mo 
ment  a  suspicious  noise  which  had  caught  his 
ear  was  renewed.  It  was  the  grating  sound 
again,  as  of  crackling  adobe,  but  nearer;  and 
there  could  be  no  mistaking  its  ominous 
meaning.  Suddenly  Green  touched  his  part 
ner  and  pointed  up  to  the  thatch,  where  a 
few  fragments  of  adobe,  dislodged  by  the 
jar  outside,  were  falling  over  their  very 
heads,  showing  that  the  enemy  were  at  work 
in  the  dead  angle  where  there  were  no  loop 
holes.  The  Indians  had  discovered  the  weak 
point  in  their  scheme  of  flank  defence,  and  the 
garrison  was  now  absolutely  at  their  mercy. 
The  exact  purpose  of  the  enemy  was  not  yet 
106 


LAWSON'S   INVESTMENT 

quite  plain.  If  it  were  another  endeavor  to 
burn  the  roof,  there  was  still  a  shadow  of 
hope.  If  the  Indians  were  going  to  attempt 
to  breach  the  walls,  or,  worse,  moisten  them 
with  water  from  the  creek  and  saw  them 
down  with  a  horsehair  lariat,  then  the  end 
was  indeed  near.  Meantime  the  noise  in 
creased;  there  was  a  scraping  of  feet  on  the 
dry  thatch  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  then  a  shot, 
and  Green,  with  a  bullet  through  his  brain, 
fell  dead  at  his  comrade's  feet.  Almost  in 
stantly  Lawson  fired  upward  at  random,  and 
a  heavy  thud  on  the  ground  outside  evidenced 
the  success  of  his  endeavor  to  avenge  his 
comrade,  and  the  temporary  failure  of  the 
enemy's  new  plan  of  assault. 

Alone  with  his  dead,  Lawson  now  stoically 
awaited  the  end.  The  Indians  were  mad 
dened  at  their  losses ;  darkness  was  still  some 
hours  away,  and  death  by  torture  or,  at  the 
last  extremity,  by  his  own  hand,  seemed  to  the 
exhausted  survivor  a  question  of  but  a  few 
moments'  time.  Having  solved  the  mystery 
of  the  dead  angle,  a  dozen  warriors  could  now 
climb  the  tower,  or,  if  their  next  attempt  were 
107 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

as  original  in  its  conception  as  the  last,  a 
single  Apache,  from  the  top  of  the  pole,  could 
hold  his  rifle  over  the  roof  and  riddle  the 
interior  with  perfect  safety.  To  add  to  his 
peril,  the  afternoon  breeze  from  the  north 
had  sprung  up,  and  the  gate  was  beginning 
to  swing  slowly  back  and  forth;  the  least 
stiffening,  and  the  gate  would  be  blown  open 
and  the  whole  interior  exposed  to  view. 

Still  the  silence  continued,  and  Lawson 
stood  by  his  dead  partner  and  mechanically 
turned  the  cylinder  of  his  revolver  as  he 
speculated  idly  whether  the  last  cartridge, 
which  he  had  reserved  for  himself,  would 
miss  fire  when  the  awful  emergency  came. 
They  had  missed  so  often — for  it  was  in  the 
early  days  of  metallic  ammunition,  and  pistol 
cartridges  were  notoriously  unreliable.  If  it 
did  fail,  they  would  give  him  no  chance  to 
try  again.  He  no  longer  hoped  or  feared; 
his  past  was  an  eventless,  uninteresting  blank, 
which  he  had  neither  will  nor  power  to  recall. 

Dazed  at  the  happenings  of  the  day,  his 
busy  brain  ceased  to  plan;  he  leaned  on  his 
rifle  and  strove  to  breathe  in  the  stifling 
1 08 


LAWSON'S  INVESTMENT 

atmosphere,  and  waited  for  what  the  next 
instant  was  to  bring.  How  long  this  con 
tinued  he  could  never  tell.  He  could  only 
remember  how  his  heart  started  to  beat  as 
he  heard,  through  the  northern  loophole,  the 
faint  tinkling  of  a  distant  bell.  Could  it  be 
so?  Again  he  strained  his  ear  to  listen,  and 
again  came  the  harsh  tinkling.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  of  it ;  it  was  relief  at  last,  unex 
pected  and  unhoped-for,  and  seemed  to  have 
come  to  him  from  the  blazing  skies. 

A  train  of  freight- wagons,  heavily  manned, 
which  he  had  supposed  to  be  still  on  the  Yuma 
desert,  had  left  Tucson  at  dawn  of  day,  and 
was  now  slowly  making  its  way  through  the 
swamp,  intending  to  make  camp  at  the  Cie- 
nega  ere  the  sun  went  down.  The  Indians 
had  accurately  measured  its  strength,  and, 
recognizing  their  utter  inability  to  cope 
with  twenty  well-armed  teamsters,  had  de 
camped  as  quietly  and  silently  as  they  had 
come,  and  the  siege  was  over. 


A    PLUCKY    YOUNG    TENDERFOOT 
Standing  off  the  "  Red  Men  " 

[ARRY  BROWN  had  the  cowboy 
fever,  and  this  is  the  way  that 
he  caught  it.  During  the  early 
spring  Harry's  uncle  had  been  a 
guest  of  the  Brown  family  for  several  weeks, 
while  the  boy  had  been  regaled  with  stories 
of  wild  Western  life  and  adventure  until  his 
dreams  suggested  a  panorama  of  prairie-land, 
cowboys,  a  whole  menagerie  of  savage  ani 
mals,  and  an  endless  procession  of  gayly  be 
decked  and  hideously  painted  Indians  gallop 
ing  furiously  across  the  plains. 

Uncle  Joel  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  his 
sister's  child,  and,  having  a  boy  of  his  own 
about  the  same  age,  he  proposed  to  the  some 
what  startled  parents  to  carry  the  lad  away 
with  him  for  the  summer,  and  give  him  an 
no 


A  PLUCKY   YOUNG   TENDERFOOT 

outing  on  his  ranch,  where  he  would  have 
the  companionship  of  his  sixteen  -  year  -  old 
cousin  Prank,  whom  he  had  placed  at  school 
in  Chicago  for  the  winter,  and  for  whom  he 
intended  to  call  when  on  his  way  back  to 
Wyoming. 

After  considerable  pleading  and  argument, 
Harry's  mother  at  length  allowed  herself  to 
be  almost  persuaded  that  if  he  went  he  would 
not  be  converted  into  a  long-haired,  swagger 
ing,  pistol-shooting  citizen,  and  that  hostile 
bands  of  redskins  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
lying  in  ambush  around  the  ranch  for  the 
purpose  of  scalping  its  inmates  several  times 
a  day;  so  at  last  she  hesitatingly  added  her 
consent  to  that  of  her  husband's. 

During  the  remaining  week  of  Uncle  Joel's 
stay  in  New  York  the  poor  man  was  subjected 
by  the  anxious  mother  to  such  a  running  fire 
of  cross-questioning,  and  so  made  to  feel  the 
awful  responsibility  that  he  was  incurring 
by  taking  Harry  away  from  his  comfortable 
home,  to  strangers  and  savage  beasts  and 
wild  cowboys,  as  well  as  bloodthirsty  Indians, 
that  he  would  have  gladly  gone  back  on  his 

8  III 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

contract,  even  if  it  cost  him  a  dozen  of  his 
best  steers. 

The  Saturday  set  for  the  departure  ar 
rived,  and  Harry  was  escorted  to  the  depot 
by  a  large  delegation  of  his  school-mates, 
who  gazed  enviously  at  their  companion 
striding  along  at  the  side  of  his  rich  cow 
boy  uncle,  who  had  been  elevated  into  a 
hero  in  their  minds  by  reason  of  the  startling 
tales  of  Indian  adventure  in  which,  accord 
ing  to  his  nephew's  account,  he  had  been  a 
most  prominent  actor.  It  is  safe  to  say  that' 
Harry's  imagination  was  responsible  for  the 
gaudy  coloring  of  some  of  the  stories,  and 
that  the  rate  at  which  his  uncle  was  reputed 
to  have  cleaned  out  the  red  men  whenever 
an  uprising  took  place  proved  conclusively 
that  the  savages  were  either  so  thick  in 
Wyoming  that  they  interfered  with  one 
another's  walking,  or  that  they  were  wise 
enough  not  to  go  upon  the  war-path  very 
often — otherwise  that  territory  would  have 
lost  all  its  natives  long  before. 

After    two    days    of    anticipation,    Harry 
stepped  off  the  train  at  Chicago  to  greet  a  lad 

112 


A  PLUCKY   YOUNG   TENDERFOOT 

whom  he  had  seen  on  the  platform  from  the 
car-window,  and  whose  resemblance  to  Uncle 
Joel  permitted  no  doubt  as  to  his  relationship. 
Frank  had  been  written  to  some  days  pre 
vious  concerning  the  companion  that  had 
been  selected  for  him  for  the  summer,  and 
had  been  anxious  to  meet  his  cousin,  so,  as 
he  expressed  himself  to  a  school-mate,  "to 
size  him  up  and  see  what  stuff  he  was  made 
out  of." 

For  a  moment  after  Uncle  Joel  had  in 
troduced  them,  in  his  bluff  but  kindly  way, 
the  boys  held  back  just  a  trifle,  as  though 
measuring  each  other  according  to  individual 
standards;  then  a  mutual  smile  of  pleasure 
and  satisfaction  lit  up  their  faces,  and  they 
shook  hands  heartily  and  walked  off  arm 
in  arm,  to  the  gratification  of  Mr.  Williams, 
who  heard  them  exchanging  confidences  and 
speculating  over  the  coming  vacation. 

The  ride  from  the  foot  of  Lake  Michigan 
to  the  city  of  Cheyenne  was  full  of  novelty 
and  excitement  for  the  Eastern  boy,  whose 
previous  travelling  had  never  carried  him 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Empire  State. 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  that  the  train 
rolled  into  the  capital  city  of  Wyoming,  Mr. 
Williams  pointed  to  a  natural  and  lofty 
pyramid  of  rocks  situated  a  few  hundred  feet 
away  from  the  track,  telling  them  to  take 
in  the  situation  quickly,  as  the  train  would 
shortly  round  a  curve  and  hide  it  from  view. 

Harry  asked  his  uncle  if  there  was  a  history 
connected  with  the  scene,  and,  learning  that 
his  suspicions  were  well  founded,  begged  for 
the  story.  Mr.  Williams  began  in  the  or 
thodox  fashion : 

"A  long  time  ago,  when  I  was  a  young 
fellow  about  twenty -three  years  of  age,  I 
first  came  out  to  this  part  of  the  country  as  a 
member  of  a  railroad-surveying  party.  One 
awfully  hot  August  afternoon  we  had  worked 
our  stakes  along  until  we  reached  the  big 
mass  of  rock  that  I  pointed  out  to  you  a  few 
minutes  ago.  As  there  was  a  promise  of  a 
thunder-shower,  according  to  the  big  black 
clouds  soaring  up  out  of  the  northwest,  and 
as  we  were  all  knocked  up  with  the  heat, 
our  chief  gave  orders  to  unhitch  the  cattle 
and  to  camp  under  the  shade  of  the  rocks. 
114 


A   PLUCKY    YOUNG  TENDERFOOT 

"  We  had  two  good  guides  and  Indian- 
fighters  in  our  outfit,  and,  being  in  a  hostile 
country,  of  course  they  were  always  on  the 
alert  for  Indian  signs  and  ambushes.  Al 
though  we  had  had  several  attacks  from  the 
hair-lifting  individuals,  they  had  always  been 
made  when  we  were  prepared,  owing  to  the 
warning  given  by  our  guides.  Why  it  was 
that  they  were  so  careless  on  that  day  I  speak 
of  I  cannot  say,  unless  the  burning  heat  of 
the  forenoon  had  taken  away  their  shrewd 
ness  and  caution. 

"As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  every 
direction  there  was  nothing  but  rolling  prai 
rie  except  right  against  our  backs,  where  the 
bare  and  ragged  rocks  went  up  almost  straight 
into  the  misty,  heat -charged  atmosphere. 
As  we  intended  to  stay  in  camp  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  day  and  the  night,  sentinels 
were  stationed  on  the  four  sides  of  the  rock, 
and  the  mules  and  horses  were  allowed  to 
crop  the  parched  grass  in  the  vicinity  as 
far  as  their  picket-ropes  would  allow  them 
to  wander.  We  intended  to  drive  them 
within  the  square  of  wagons  before  dark, 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

so  as  to  make  them  secure  against  a  stam 
pede. 

"  About  four  o'clock  the  storm  came  sweep 
ing  across  the  prairie,  and  for  about  an  hour 
the  thunder  rolled  and  cracked,  and  the  light 
ning  flashed  as  it  knows  how  to  do  in  Wyo 
ming  ;  then  when  it  seemed  to  be  dying  away 
there  came  a  blinding  flash  of  fire  in  our  faces 
and  the  most  awful  crash  I  ever  heard.  It 
stunned  us  all  for  a  moment,  so  that  when 
something  came  pitching  down  from  the 
rocks  just  over  our  heads  and  fell  with  a  thud 
on  the  sodden  grass  a  few  feet  away,  we 
imagined  it  to  be  a  piece  of  the  cliff  detached 
by  the  last  concussion.  After  that  the  rain 
ceased  and  the  sun  shone  out.  Then  it  was 
that  we  discovered  the  thing  in  front  of  us 
to  be  a  Cheyenne  warrior.  After  the  first 
look  there  was  no  use  in  seeking  for  signs  of 
life  in  him,  for  his  face  was  as  black  as  that 
of  a  negro,  and  one  side  of  him  was  horribly 
burned.  It  didn't  take  us  long  to  reason  that 
he  had  been  hidden  away  among  the  rocks, 
spying  on  us,  and  that  the  last  lightning- 
bolt  had  been  attracted  to  him  by  the  steel 
116 


A   PLUCKY   YOUNG   TENDERFOOT 

tomahawk  in  his  belt.  After  that  we  pulled 
out  on  the  open  prairie  and  kept  a  close 
watch  on  that  pile  of  rock  for  the  remainder 
of  the  afternoon  and  night,  for  we  didn't 
know  how  many  more  of  the  heathen  might 
be  in  hiding  up  there;  but  nothing  further 
happened,  and  in  the  morning  we  said  good 
bye  to  it  with  a  big  feeling  of  relief." 

At  Cheyenne,  Mr.  Williams'  foreman  and 
several  ranch  hands  were  in  waiting  with 
saddle-horses  for  the  party.  During  the  two 
days  that  the  party  remained  in  the  city 
Frank  gave  Harry  some  valuable  lessons  in 
horsemanship,  and  after  about  a  week's  ex 
perience,  in  which  time  he  became  hardened 
to  the  saddle,  Harry  found  no  greater  en 
joyment  than  in  galloping  about  the  range 
on  the  back  of  a  fiery  young  horse  that  his 
cousin  had  raised,  and  which  he  presented  to 
him  "for  keeps,"  as  he  expressed  it. 

Now  Frank  Williams  was  a  kind-hearted 
young  fellow,  and  during  the  fortnight  that 
he  and  Harry  had  been  thrown  together  a 
mutual  affection  had  grown  between  them; 
but  Frank  was  brimming  over  with  mischief, 
117 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

and  he  conceived  a  plan  for  having  a  laugh 
at  his  "tenderfoot  relation,"  as  Harry  was 
called  by  the  cowboys. 

The  few  Indians  who  appeared  in  the  vi 
cinity  of  the  ranch  belonged  to  a  peaceable 
tribe  of  Cheyennes,  but  when  the  oppor 
tunity  came  Frank  intended  to  make  these 
demoralized  and  decidedly  lazy  individuals 
appear  as  the  most  frenzied  and  bloodthirsty 
creatures  that  his  imagination  was  equal  to. 
The  cowboys  were  taken  into  the  secret,  and 
a  mysterious  visit  was  made  by  one  of  them 
to  the  Indian  camp,  where  the  chief,  who  de 
lighted  in  the  high-sounding  title  of  "Dog- 
with-two-tails,"  was  pleased  to  dispose  of 
several  feathered  head-dresses  and  a  quantity 
of  colored  pigments  for  a  suspicious-looking 
black  bottle,  which  the  noble  savage  patted 
affectionately  and  stowed  away  inside  his 
dirty  shirt. 

Several  days  after  this  Frank  asked  his 
cousin  to  take  a  canter  with  him  to  a  some 
what  remote  point  of  the  range  where  the 
men  were  branding  the  young  cattle.  As 
they  rode  across  the  undulating  prairie,  sweet 
118 


A   PLUCKY    YOUNG   TENDERFOOT 

and  fresh  in  the  early  summer  sunshine, 
Frank  explained  to  his  cousin  that  the  Indian 
outbreaks  were  always  timed  to  take  place 
when  the  winter  was  over.  Then  he  went 
on  to  state,  with  a  shade  of  worry  on  his  face, 
that  although  there  had  been  no  trouble  for 
*some  time,  it  was  well  to  be  on  guard  con 
stantly,  for  the  uprisings  generally  took  place 
when  they  were  least  expected.  He  kept  on 
in  this  strain  until  the  branding-place  was 
reached ;  then  Harry  became  so  interested  in 
the  round-up  and  sorting  of  the  cattle  that 
he  failed  to  notice  several  of  the  cowboys 
disappearing  into  the  small  woods  close  at 
hand. 

After  a  time  the  boys  started  on  their  ten- 
mile  ride  for  home,  allowing  their  horses  to 
jog  along  easily,  while  Frank  profited  by  the 
occasion  to  say  more  about  the  uncertainty 
of  their  savage  neighbors,  and  the  reckless 
ness  of  even  riding  over  the  range  unless  pre 
pared  for  emergencies. 

They  had  ridden  about  two  miles  when 
their  ears  were  suddenly  saluted  with  the 
most  dreadful  series  of  yells  that  ever  dis- 
119 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

graced  the  human  throat.  Looking  back  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound,  the  boys  saw,  not 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  coming 
down  on  them  at  top  speed,  five  savages  in 
full  war-paint  and  feathers,  brandishing  their 
rifles,  while  they  continued  to  utter  such 
unearthly  screams  and  howls  that  Harry 
afterwards  admitted  that  his  hair  developed 
a  tendency  to  lift  his  cap  clear  of  his  head. 

"They've  broken  out!"  yelled  Frank. 
"Spur  for  home  or  they'll  have  our  scalps!" 

The  next  instant  the  two  boys  were  fran 
tically  driving  their  heels  into  the  sides  of  the 
speeding  horses,  while  behind  them  the  Ind 
ians  redoubled  their  yells  and  swept  furious 
ly  along  in  pursuit. 

All  of  a  sudden  Harry  saw  Frank's  horse, 
which  was  a  little  in  advance,  step  in  a  hole, 
pitch  on  his  knees,  and  send  his  rider  flying 
out  of  the  saddle.  Harry  reined  up  by  the 
side  of  his  cousin,  but  Frank  never  moved 
nor  responded  to  the  excited  appeal  for  him 
to  jump  up  and  get  on  behind. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Back  there,  only 
an  eighth  of  a  mile  away,  the  redskins  were 
120 


A  PLUCKY   YOUNG   TENDERFOOT 

tearing  along  on  their  trail,  and  here,  help 
less  and  unconscious,  lay  his  companion. 

"I'll  never  leave  him  for  those  fiends  to 
butcher,"  muttered  Harry,  pale  with  fear, 
but  with  his  teeth  set  hard  and  a  look  of  de 
termination  on  his  youthful  face.  Then  he 
unslung  his  gun,  dismounted  from  his  horse, 
brought  the  piece  to  his  shoulder,  ran  his  eye 
along  the  barrel  until  the  head  of  one  of  the 
Indians  was  in  line,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

With  the  report  the  savages  turned  their 
horses  and  took  the  back  trail,  and  were  soon 
out  of  sight. 

"The  miserable  cowards,"  thought  Harry, 
"to  run  away  from  a  boy!" 

"  Harry,"  said  a  very  shamefaced  lad  sitting 
on  the  ground  a  few  feet  away,  and  rubbing  a 
big  lump  on  the  back  of  his  head,  "you  can 
put  up  your  gun ;  there's  no  danger.  I  tried 
to  play  a  joke  on  you,  and  the  joke  came  on 
me.  I'm  glad  that  you  had  only  bird-shot 
in  that  gun  of  yours,  because  you  might  have 
killed  one  of  father's  cowboys.  But  I  say, 
Harry,  dear  old  fellow,  it  was  awfully  brave 
of  you  to  stand  by  me  when  I  was  knocked 

121 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

silly  by  that  tumble,  and  I  appreciate  it  just 
as  much  as  though  it  was  all  real  work  in 
stead  of  a  joke;  and — and — oh!  I  say  Harry, 
old  fellow,  don't  say  anything  about  it,  and 
if  any  one  ever  dares  to  call  you  a  tenderfoot 
again  when  I'm  around,  why,  I'll  brand  him 
with  the  jolliest,  biggest  iron  that  we've  got 
on  the  ranch." 


ELK    AND    BLUEBIRD 
A   Cheyenne  Boy's  Revenge 

SOW  look,  Bluebird.  See  how 
wise  the  little  roughcoat  is.  Up! 
Big  chief!  March!" 

Elk  accompanied  his  commands 
with  expressive  actions.  He  waved  his  hands 
upward,  threw  out  his  chest,  and  strutted  off 
along  the  river  -  bank.  The  young  bear  he 
was  training  stood  up  on  his  hind-legs  and 
comically  repeated  his  movements. 

Bluebird  clapped  her  slender  brown  hands 
in  delighted  applause. 

Elk  gave  a  short,  pleased  laugh.  He  re 
garded  his  accomplished  pet  affectionately. 
"  That's  enough  for  to-night,"  he  said,  patting 
the  brown  head.  "Bluebird,"  he  added, 
glancing  over  towards  the  Cheyenne  village 
among  the  straggly  trees  a  few  rods  back 
123 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

from  the  river,  "let's  go  see  what  Yellow 
Stripe's  boy  is  saying  to  Much  Tongue." 

A  white  lad,  whom  Elk  and  his  sister  recog 
nized  as  the  son  of  a  cavalry  officer  stationed 
at  the  adjacent  fort,  had  just  ridden  up  to 
the  Indian  camp,  and  was  leaning  across  a 
rifle  on  his  knees,  talking  to  Harlow,  the  inter 
preter,  called  by  the  Cheyennes  Much  Tongue. 

Elk  and  Bluebird  had  attended  school  on 
the  Reservation  since  their  people  had  sur 
rendered  to  the  military  authorities,  and  they 
understood  the  white  man's  language. 

The  sun  was  just  setting.  Its  long  last 
rays  cast  reflections  across  the  prairie  like 
gigantic  finger-marks.  It  was  late  August, 
and  some  good  -  sized  rabbits  were  abroad 
among  the  sage-brush  at  that  hour.  Alan 
stopped  to  fire  at  them  now  and  then. 

Elk  and  Bluebird,  watching  his  receding  fig 
ure,  saw  him  dismount  and  creep  cautiously 
along  the  ground  for  some  distance  before  fir 
ing.  Afterwards  he  spent  several  minutes  ap 
parently  searching  among  the  bushes.  Then 
he  remounted  his  horse  and  rode  on  home. 
124 


ELK   AND  BLUEBIRD 

"  He's  lost  whatever  he  shot  at,"  remarked 
Elk. 

He  and  Bluebird  were  hunting  the  bear, 
whom  they  had  forgotten  for  a  moment,  and 
who,  it  seemed,  had  run  away.  He  was  not 
very  large ;  his  body  might  easily  be  concealed 
in  the  high  sage.  They  whistled  and  called 
for  him. 

"Here  he  comes,"  Bluebird  said  at  length. 

The  bushes  rustled  in  a  line  towards  them, 
and  presently  they  saw  the  little  fellow. 
He  seemed  to  be  struggling  with  difficulty 
to  reach  them.  They  could  hear  him  pant. 

Elk  sprang  quickly  to  him.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  beside  the  bear,  uttering  a  cry. 

"Oh,  Bluebird,  he  is  hurt!" 

The  cub's  breast  was  covered  with  blood. 
His  pink  tongue  lolled  out  of  his  mouth. 
He  ceased  his  efforts  to  walk  when  Elk 
reached  him.  He  sank  down  in  a  helpless 
heap,  and  looked  imploringly  up  into  his 
master's  face. 

Elk  hastily  parted  the  thick  fur  to  dis 
cover  the  wound.  He  gave  another  sharp 
cry. 

125 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"Oh,  Bluebird,  my  little  dear  one  is  dying! 
He  is  shot!  He  is  shot!" 

A  moment  later  the  bear  fell  over  lifeless. 

Elk  flung  himself  upon  his  face  in  a  passion 
of  tears. 

Bluebird  took  the  bear's  head  between  her 
hands  and  blew  into  his  face.  But  he  was 
past  any  aid  in  her  power. 

"  Poor  little  thing!"  she  murmured,  putting 
it  gently  down;  "  the  white  boy  did  not  know 
who  you  were!" 

Elk  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  looked 
across  the  dusky  prairie  to  Fort  Strong,  where 
lights  were  beginning  to  twinkle,  and  shook 
his  fist. 

"Mean  coward!"  he  shouted,  menacingly. 
"I'll  pay  you  back  for  this!  You  think  be 
cause  you  belong  to  the  strong  white  tribe 
that  you  can  do  whatever  you  choose!  But 
I'll  tell  you  that  when  a  Cheyenne's  heart 
gets  bad  he  can  find  a  way  to  revenge  him 
self!" 

"Oh,  Elk,  don't!"  Bluebird  laid  her  hand 
on  her  brother's  arm.  She  looked  entreat- 
ingly  into  his  face,  distorted  with  grief  and 
126 


ELK  AND   BLUEBIRD 

anger.     "  I'm  sure  Yellow  Stripe's  boy  didn't 
know  he  was  your  pet,"  she  said. 

"Didn't  know?  Didn't  care!"  retorted 
Elk. 

!He  dropped  upon  his  knees,  and,  drawing 
the  knife  from  the  leather  sheath  hanging 
from  his  belt,  began  to  dig  at  the  darkening 
earth. 

"I'm  going  to  bury  him,"  he  said,  in  a 
short,  hard  voice. 

Bluebird  took  out  her  knife  and  proceeded 
to  help  him. 

They  dug  away  without  talking.  Elk's 
anger  grew  as  he  worked,  as  if  the  dark 
silence  about  him  was  rilled  with  a  host  of 
malicious,  whispering  spirits. 

"  Lone  Dog  is  right,"  he  broke  out,  bitterly, 
after  a  few  minutes.  "These  white  people 
are  never  really  our  friends.  They  conquer 
us  because  they  are  rich  and  powerful.  Then 
they  keep  us  down  like  dogs.  I'd  rather  we'd 
all  been  captured  by  the  Sioux  and  killed 
outright." 

"Oh,  Elk,  think  what  you're  saying!" 
Bluebird  remonstrated.  "  You  know  the  sol- 
9  127 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

dier  chiefs  treat  us  kindly.  Remember  how 
often  we  used  to  be  cold  and  starved  in  the 
old  life,  and  how  we  lived  in  fear  day  and 
night  of  enemies,  and  think  of  the  food  and 
blankets  and  quiet  homes  we  have  here! 
And,  Elk,"  she  added,  somewhat  shyly,  "it  is 
good  to  have  learned  the  things  they  have 
taught  us.  The  white  people's  way  of  act 
ing  towards  one  another  is  wiser  for  happiness 
and  peace  of  the  heart  than  ours.  We  have 
learned  that  it  is  better  not  to  seek  revenge, 
haven't  we,  Elk?" 

Elk's  fierce  cut  at  the  ground  expressed 
his  mental  determination  to  sever  himself 
from  all  such  opinions. 

"You  always  talk  that  way,  Bluebird!" 
he  cried,  irately.  "But  no  one  except  a 
man  coward  will  overlook  an  injury,  Lone 
Dog  says." 

"Oh,  Elk,  don't  listen  to  the  hard,  sour 
things  Lone  Dog  says!"  Bluebird  beseeched. 

The  boy  made  no  reply.  The  grave 
being  large  enough,  he  quietly  laid  the  bear 
in  it,  refilled  the  hole,  and  led  the  way 
home. 

128 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

"Ride  away  from  the  angry  tongue  which 
meddles  in  a  stranger's  quarrel,  for  the  fawn 
with  the  bit  ear  shall  recover,  but  if  by  evil 
counsel  he  is  made  to  turn  furiously  on  the 
wolf  he  shall  surely  be  torn  in  pieces." 

"  Yes,  mother,  that  is  why  I  say  I  wish  Elk 
would  not  talk  with  Lone  Dog.  He  is  the 
angry  tongue  that  is  always  trying  to  stir 
up  the  boys  to  do  mischief." 

Bluebird's  voice  was  seriously  troubled. 
She  scraped  away  thoughtfully  at  the  fresh 
hide  of  a  buffalo  that  she  and  her  mother, 
Ready  Proverb,  were  getting  ready  to  tan. 

"Lone  Dog  is  like  the  lame  coyote  since 
he  was  put  in  the  guard-house  for  stealing," 
observed  Ready  Proverb.  "  He  will  not  rest 
until  his  whole  band  has  felt  the  snare  which 
caught  him." 

"  Elk's  heart  is  so  bad  over  the  bear's 
death,  and  he  has  been  in  Lone  Dog's  tepee 
all  morning,"  said  Bluebird. 

"Elk  is  the  grandson  of  my  father  Wise 

Eye,"  the  mother  responded,  placidly;  "he 

will  detect  the  hidden  iron  that  scorched  the 

hide  of  the  branded  bull!     He  will  not  suffer 

129 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

himself  to  be  led  by  Lone  Dog,  who  is  the  dirt 
of  the  tribe !  Elk  shall  avenge  his  wrongs  him 
self  in  due  season !  He  shall  be  the  powerful 
warrior  of  the  Cheyennes!  He  shall  count 
his  coups,  and  they  shall  be  as  many  as  the 
hairs  on  his  head!  He  shall  lie  in  peace  at 
night  on  a  bed  made  of  scalps  of  his  enemies !" 

"  Mother  doesn't  understand,"  Bluebird 
thought,  sadly. 

She  suffered  the  intense  pain  the  children 
of  a  people  in  a  state  of  transition  from 
savagery  to  Christianity  must  suffer  in  the 
realization  that  their  parents  have  failed  to 
grasp  the  new  truths  already  embraced  by 
their  more  teachable  minds. 

Ready  Proverb,  however,  according  to  her 
light,  was  a  good  mother.  She  was  proud 
and  fond  of  her  children. 

"Elk,"  she  presently  remarked,  "ate  very 
little  breakfast,  and  when  a  boy's  stomach 
is  empty  his  heart  trails  on  the  ground.  You 
better  go  dig  some  turnips  for  his  dinner. 
He  always  likes  turnips." 

Bluebird  cleaned  her  knife  in  the  earth  and 
slipped  it  into  its  beaded  sheath,  and  started 
130 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

at  once  after  the  wild  turnips.  They  grew 
profusely  among  the  cottonwoods  half  a  mile 
below  the  camp. 

Bluebird  had  nearly  reached  the  spot  when 
a  strange  noise  attracted  her  attention. 
Looking  around,  she  found  that  it  came 
from  a  large,  old,  tin  kerosene  can  standing 
a  short  ways  off.  She  walked  towards  it 
curiously. 

All  of  a  sudden  Elk  flew  out  from  behind  a 
tree. 

" Don't  touch  that!"  he  cried,  warningly. 

Bluebird  started  in  surprise  at  finding  him 
so  near.  She  glanced  cautiously  into  the 
open  can.  She  recoiled  from  it  with  a  hor 
rified  look. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  those 
rattlesnakes,  Elk?"  she  exclaimed. 

''Something."  A  dark  flush  spread  over 
the  boy's  face.  He  looked  sullen  and  jaded. 

Bluebird  forgot  her  consternation  in  a 
flood  of  compassion  for  her  unhappy-looking 
brother. 

"I've  come  to  dig  turnips.  You'll  like  them 
for  dinner,  won't  you?"  she  said,  pleasantly. 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"I  don't  want  any  dinner,"  he  answered. 

"  But  you  ate  hardly  a  mouthful  of  break 
fast." 

"I  ate  enough,"  returned  Elk.  "I'm  not 
going  to  eat  so  much  hereafter.  We  Reserva 
tion  Cheyennes  overfeed  with  three  meals  a 
day.  The  braves  grow  fat  and  flabby.  They 
cry  like  children  when  they're  hurt."  He 
blushed  with  shame,  remembering  how  he 
had  wept  for  the  bear.  But  his  eyes  flashed 
as  he  shook  the  can  and  heard  the  hissing  and 
rattling  of  the  snakes.  "I'm  through  living 
the  soft  life  of  a  white  man,"  he  added. 
"I'm  a  Cheyenne /" 

In  moving,  the  light  sleeve  of  his  calico 
shirt  slipped  up  and  revealed  to  Bluebird  his 
arm  covered  with  horrible  gashes.  Elk  had 
been  torturing  himself  to  test  his  endurance, 
after  the  dreadful  old  tribal  custom.  Blue 
bird  was  convinced  that  he  was  acting  under 
Lone  Dog's  advice.  A  dread  of  what  her 
brother  might  be  led  to  do  next  by  the  bad 
man  formed  like  a  layer  of  ice  on  her  heart. 

"Elk,"  she  begged,  tremulously,  "please 
come  home  to  dinner.  I'm  sure  you've  cour- 
132 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

age  enough.  I  don't  think  it's  weak  for  a 
brave  to  cry  when  he  loses  a  thing  he  loves. 
If  you'll  eat  something  perhaps  you'll  feel 
differently." 

Elk  shook  his  head  resolutely. 

He  did  not  return  until  evening.  During 
the  afternoon  Bluebird's  anxious  eyes  spied 
him  riding  along  the  trail  skirting  the  Bad 
Lands,  making  for  the  town  across  the  river 
beyond  the  fort.  She  felt  certain  that  he  had 
made  the  long  circuit  to  avoid  attention.  She 
wondered  why  he  was  leading  his  second  pony. 

When  Elk  returned  home  he  did  not  have 
the  second  pony.  He  had  bartered  it  for  an 
old  rifle  and  some  cartridges.  He  supposed 
the  weapon  was  concealed  beneath  his 
blanket,  but  Bluebird,  beading  a  moccasin 
beside  the  tepee  door,  observed  it  as  he  passed 
in.  She  said  nothing  about  it,  but  the  cir 
cumstances  added  to  the  weight  of  her 
anxiety  over  Elk's  strange  actions. 

The  next  day  was  Wednesday.  Elk  had 
not  relaxed  his  gloomy  silence  since  the  bear's 
death.  He  scarcely  spoke  to  any  one;  he 
sulked  off  by  himself. 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Bluebird  had  an  errand  at  the  trader's  this 
morning.  She  was  crossing  the  prairie  to  the 
fort,  when,  glancing  over  to  the  west  where 
the  hills  lay,  she  saw  Elk  disappearing  into 
the  canon  beside  Flat  Butte.  She  looked 
after  the  lonely  figure  with  a  sigh. 

She  was  kept  at  the  post- trader's  for  quite 
a  long  time  before  the  clerk  could  wait  upon 
her.  At  length,  while  she  wTas  selecting  her 
beads,  Alan  Jervis  and  an  officer  came  saun 
tering  down  the  long  store  past  where  she 
stood. 

Alan  carried  a  quirt,  and  he  had  the  cruel 
little  steel  wheels  which  the  white  chiefs 
used  to  make  their  horses  go  fast  attached 
to  his  boot-heels.  Bluebird  understood  that 
he  was  dressed  for  riding.  She  heard  him 
say  to  the  officer : 

"  Father  said  I  might  come  out  to  the  camp 
for  a  few  days,  and  I'm  going  now  in  about 
an  hour.  I  know  the  way,  and  Harlow  has 
told  me  of  a  short-cut  the  Indians  take 
through  a  canon  in  the  hills." 

"Past  Flat  Butte,  isn't  it?"  inquired  the 
officer.  "That  route  is  considerably  shorter 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD       . 

than  around  the  hills,  but  it's  a  bad  bit  of 
travelling  through  the  canon.  You  must 
look  out  for  the  fissures  in  the  ground;  the 
sage  completely  covers  some  of  them,  and 
you're  liable  to  fall  into  one  and  break  your 
neck." 

"Harlow  warned  me,"  replied  Alan. 

The  two  passed  on,  leaving  Bluebird  in  a 
strange  tumult  of  troubled  thoughts.  She 
began  all  at  once  to  connect  Elk's  trip  to  the 
Bad  Lands  that  morning  with  Alan's  intend 
ed  journey  through  the  desolate,  rarely  trav 
elled  canon. 

Elk's  sworn  purpose  to  revenge  the  bear's 
death,  his  conversations  with  Lone  Dog,  his 
self-torture  to  prove  his  hardiness,  the  grew- 
some  can  of  rattlesnakes,  the  rifle — all  these 
things  came  before  her  mind  in  an  ominous 
jumble. 

What  did  they  all  mean  ?  What  was  Elk 
about  to  do? 

Bluebird  forgot  her  beads.     She  hurried 

out  of  the  store  through  the  rear  exit,  which 

opened  onto  the  prairie.     She  started  at  a 

rapid  pace  across  the  stretch  to  the  hills. 

'35 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

She  had  no  idea  what  she  was  going  to  do 
other  than  that  she  must  find  Elk,  and  in 
some  way,  even  at  the  risk  of  her  life,  pre 
vent  an  attempt  on  the  white  boy.  Oh, 
Elk  must  not  hurt  him!  Elk,  when  he  was 
his  right-minded  self,  saw,  as  she  did,  that 
revenge  was  low  and  cowardly,  and  did  not 
mean  manliness,  as  they  had  been  led  to 
believe  in  the  old  days. 

Moreover,  she  knew  that  Elk  would  be 
summarily  dealt  with  by  the  fort  authorities 
if  he  should  molest  Alan.  If  he  could  not 
escape  them  by  running  away,  he  would  be 
put  in  prison.  The  white  people  hanged 
men  for  killing  others.  It  was  by  such  stern 
laws  against  wrong -doers  that  they  kept 
their  state  of  peace. 

Bluebird's  heart  quaked  and  her  steps  went 
faster.  It  was  a  sunny  morning.  She  grew 
very  hot.  The  perspiration  poured  off  her 
face.  She  flung  away  her  blanket  without 
stopping.  Now  and  then  she  glanced  hur 
riedly  back  to  see  if  Alan  was  coming.  She 
had  just  reached  the  mouth  of  the  canon 
when  she  saw  him.  She  was  very  tired  by 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

now,  but  she  summoned  what  remained  of 
her  strength  and  started  up  the  narrow  pass 
with  fresh  vigor. 

Alan  was  not  many  minutes  behind  her. 

Elk  stopped  his  pony  just  outside  the 
Cheyenne  village  to  watch  Alan's  horse  going 
across  the  open  space  from  the  fort  to  the 
hills.  He  had  returned  from  the  canon  by  a 
roundabout  way,  and  had  escaped  Bluebird's 
observation. 

"He'll  soon  be  there,"  he  thought.  An 
irrepressible  shudder  went  through  him. 
He  could  not  see  the  rider  at  that  distance, 
but  the  sun  shone  on  the  white  horse,  and  he 
knew  it  was  Alan's. 

As  he  watched  it  the  memory  of  a  game 
of  marbles  he  once  had  played  with  Alan 
came  involuntarily  to  his  mind.  Yellow 
Stripe's  boy  had  played  generously.  After 
the  game  he  had  presented  Elk  with  a  large 
bag  of  marbles.  He  was  a  brave  white  boy. 
Elk  always  had  liked  him  until  he  had  killed 
the  bear. 

Elk  looked  at  the  white  speck  irresolutely. 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

"Windfoot  might  get  there  even  now  be 
fore  his  slow  horse,"  he  was  thinking.  His 
heart  beat  hard;  his  body  leaned  uncon 
sciously  forward  towards  Alan. 

Impelled  by  a  sweep  of  changed  feelings, 
he  suddenly  raised  his  quirt  to  start  up  his 
pony,  when  a  dark  hand  fell  with  deadening 
force  upon  his  arm. 

Lone  Dog's  evil  face  looked  up  at  him. 
"I've  put  the  paint -sticks  and  a  looking- 
glass  in  the  twisted  tree,"  he  whispered. 

Elk  looked  at  him  undecidedly  a  moment. 
Then  he  heavily  replied,  "Very  good,"  and 
turned  his  horse  slowly  in  among  the  tepees 
under  the  cottonwoods. 

Lone  Dog  smiled  satisfiedly  as  he  limped 
home. 

Elk  dismounted  at  his  home  and  went  in. 
Presently  he  came  out  with  the  rifle  he  had 
got  the  day  before.  He  carried  it  cautiously 
concealed.  The  young  Cheyennes  were  not 
allowed  to  have  fire-arms. 

He  glanced  about  a  moment  for  his  mother. 
Then  he  told  himself  he  was  glad  she  was 
away  from  home.  Reservation  life  certain- 
138 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

ly  had  the  effect  of  making  a  brave  weak- 
hearted  in  an  enterprise!  He  felt  a  moisture 
about  his  eyes  as  he  remounted  his  pony  and 
rode  on  among  the  trees  down  the  river  to  a 
desolate  spot  some  distance  below  the  camp. 

Three-quarters  of  an  hour  later  he  emerged 
from  the  trees  quite  changed  in  appearance. 
He  had  painted  yellow  lines  like  sunrays  from 
the  corners  of  his  eyes  and  mouth;  on  each 
cheek  he  had  painted  a  grotesque  red  spot. 
He  had  braided  a  defiant  scalp-lock  on  the 
top  of  his  head.  He  was,  in  fact,  preparing 
to  join  a  band  of  hostiles  in  the  north  that 
Lone  Dog  had  directed  him  to. 

It  would  not  be  safe,  Lone  Dog  had  told 
him,  to  remain  any  longer  in  the  vicinity  of 
Fort  Strong.  Besides,  it  was  time  that  he 
was  going  on  the  war-path  and  making  a 
name  for  himself. 

He  tried  to  grunt  "Huh!"  in  the  savage, 
manly  manner  he  had  heard  the  warriors  do. 
Somehow  it  sounded  rather  weak.  He  did 
not  dare  look  round  towards  home  as  he  rode 
rapidly  off  for  the  Bad  Lands.  Reservation 
life  certainly  turned  men  into  children! 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

Elk  had  almost  reached  the  hills  when,  far 
down  to  the  south  of  him,  he  saw  something 
emerge  from  the  hills  close  beside  Flat  Butte. 

His  keen-sighted  eyes  peered  sharply.  It 
was  a  boy  leading  a  horse — a  white  horse. 
And  something  was  on  the  horse's  back. 

Elk  stopped  his  pony  and  looked  excitedly. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  Alan  had  escaped, 
after  all?  What  would  Lone  Dog  think  if 
he  knew  that  Elk  was  glad  of  the  escape  ? 

Why  was  Yellow  Stripe's  boy  walking? 
The  pack  on  the  white  horse  was  a  brilliant 
blue.  It  looked  familiar. 

Elk,  with  a  strange  presentiment  of  what 
had  happened,  whipped  up  his  pony  and 
started  wildly  towards  the  party.  He  rode 
like  a  wild  man  to  reach  them.  Alan  stop 
ped  the  horse  and  waited  when  he  saw  him 
coming. 

Bluebird,  her  head  and  right  arm  swathed 
in  bandages  torn  from  Alan's  shirt,  sat  upon 
the  horse.  She  looked  towards  Elk.  The 
cruel  scratches  on  her  face  appeared  beyond 
the  cloths.  Her  eyes  showed  intense  suf 
fering. 

140 


"'DID    ANYTHING    BITE    YOU,    BLUEBIRD?'    HE     SAID, 
HOARSELY" 


ELK   AND    BLUEBIRD 

Alan  began  explaining  how,  riding  up  the 
canon,  he  had  found  Bluebird  in  a  cut  in  the 
ground,  clinging  to  a  root  of  sage-brush  to 
keep  herself  from  falling  to  the  bottom. 

Elk  scarcely  heard  him.  He  sprang  off  at 
Bluebird's  side ;  his  face  had  grown  suddenly 
sharp  and  thin  with  terror. 

"Did  anything  bite  you,  Bluebird?"  he 
said,  hoarsely.  "  Do  you  feel  yourself  swell 
ing  anywhere  ?"  His  sister's  soft  eyes  poured 
a  flood  of  sorrow  into  his  upturned  face. 

"  No,  Elk;  I  caught  hold  of  a  root  and  held 
on,  and  the  snakes  could  not  get  at  me,"  she 
said,  in  Cheyenne.  A  shudder  went  over  her. 
11 1  could  hear  them  rattling  beneath  me,  but 
the  brush  was  between  us." 

"I'm  certain  Bluebird's  fall  saved  my  life," 
Alan  was  saying,  earnestly.  "The  bottom 
of  that  pit  was  fairly  alive  with  rattlers,  and 
my  horse  would  have  crushed  right  down 
into  them,  and  then  we'd  both  have  been 
done  for.  Somebody  had  covered  the  hole 
with  dry  brush  and  rubbish,  and  put  loose 
earth  over  it.  Nobody  would  have  guessed 
it  was  a  hole.  Bluebird  says  she  was  run- 
141 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

ning  right  across  it.  I  think  it  must  have 
been  intended  for  a  bear -trap.  Do  you 
know,  there  are  bears  about?  I  saw  one 
Monday  evening,  and  fired  at  it,  but  missed 
it." 

Bluebird  shot  a  swift,  meaning  glance  into 
Elk's  eyes.  "The  white  boy  saved  my  life, 
Elk,"  she  said.  "I  couldn't  have  held  on 
with  one  hand  a  moment  longer.  My  right 
arm  broke  when  I  fell,  I  think,  and  I  couldn't 
use  it.  But,  dear  Elk" — she  tried  to  lean 
towards  him  as  she  added,  rapidly,  in  Chey 
enne — "it's  all  right  that  only  I  am  hurt. 
I  went  to  the  canon  to  save  Yellow  Stripe's 
boy — and  you" 

Elk  had  a  sudden  conviction  that  the 
teachings  of  Reservation  life  had  not  made 
his  sister  weak-hearted,  at  all  events.  There 
was  an  appeal  in  her  tones  that  he  did  not 
attempt  to  resist.  She  was  offering  her  own 
sufferings  in  atonement  for  Alan's  fault. 
Elk  did  not  let  her  sacrifice  go  for  nothing. 
He  took  a  step  towards  Alan,  and  extended 
his  hand. 

"  Hough!"  he  cried,  in  a  firm,  hearty  voice, 
142 


ELK   AND   BLUEBIRD 

which  begged  forgiveness  and  pledged  his  own 
friendship. 

Elk  gave  Alan  his  pony  to  carry  him  home. 
He  took  charge  of  Bluebird  on  the  horse. 

Lone  Dog  came  limping  away  out  to  meet 
them  as  they  neared  the  village.  His  sinis 
ter  eyes  inquired  of  Elk  how  his  villanously 
counselled  scheme  happened  to  miscarry. 

Elk  pretended  not  to  see  him.  His  mo 
mentary  yielding  to  the  disturbers  of  the 
youths  of  the  village  was  over,  never  to  re 
turn.  Bluebird  saw  that  Ready  Proverb  was 
right.  Now  that  the  black  veil  of  revenge 
ful  passion  had  swept  by  and  his  right  vision 
was  restored  to  him,  the  grandson  of  Wise 
Eye  was  not,  indeed,  to  be  led  by  the  dirt  of 
the  tribe. 


10 


RALPH    WILTON'S    DESTINY 

The  Triumph  of  White  Light 

jHE  Indians  were  grouped  for  the 
conference  in  a  great  semicircle 
in  front  of  the  agency  store.  The 
semicircle  was  several  tiers  deep, 
ranging  from  old  men  and  chiefs  in  the  first 
row  to  the  squaws  and  children  on  the  out 
skirts. 

They  were  a  very  poor  lot  of  people,  so 
gray  and  dingy  and  forlorn  it  seemed  almost 
as  if  they  might  have  sprung  from  the  gray 
sage-brush  among  which  they  were  seated. 

Their  thin  dark  faces  looked  wistfully  up 
at  the  commissioner  who  had  come  out  from 
Washington  to  inquire  into  their  welfare. 

He  regarded  them  compassionately.    "Tell 
them,"  he  bade  the  interpreter,  in  concluding 
his  address,  "that  the  Great  White  Father 
144 


RALPH  WILTON'S   DESTINY 

is  fond  of  his  Indian  children,  and  he  sends 
word  that  he  keeps  them  in  mind  and  wishes 
them  to  be  well  and  happy.  He  says  their 
annuities  will  surely  come  before  winter, 
and  he  desires  the  young  men  to  hunt  the 
wild  animals  and  sell  the  skins  and  help  sup 
port  the  families." 

A  shrewd  expression  crossed  the  face  of 
the  interpreter.  He  was  a  thick-set  man, 
with  steely  eyes  that  were  continually  glan 
cing  here  and  there.  Experience  had  taught 
Ralph  Wilton  to  be  always  on  the  alert  if 
he  would  properly  grasp  circumstances  and 
wield  them  to  his  purpose.  He  was  agent  as 
well  as  interpreter.  Moreover,  the  agency 
store,  though  run  under  another  name,  be 
longed  to  him. 

He  looked  down  now  at  the  Indians,  realiz 
ing  his  power  over  them  with  unscrupulous 
satisfaction,  for  this  mass  of  pitiful  humanity 
was  simply  so  much  material  out  of  which 
profit  might  be  made  to  Ralph  Wilton,  and 
in  their  ignorance  they  were  figuratively  as 
well  as  literally  at  his  feet. 

He  repeated  the  commissioner's  words  with 
MS 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

modifications    appropriate    to    his   own   de 
sires  : 

"The  Great  White  Father  will  be  dis 
pleased  if  the  young  men  do  not  bring  in 
plenty  of  skins  and  sell  them  cheap  at  the 
agency  store,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  little  stir  in  the  rear  of  the 
crowd ;  a  young  woman  had  started  sudden 
ly  to  her  feet.  Ralph,  glancing  towards  her 
for  an  instant,  encountered  a  pair  of  blazing 
eyes.  She  seemed  on  the  point  of  speaking. 

"That's  all!"  Ralph  loudly  addressed  the 
meeting.  The  chiefs  rose  and  shook  hands 
with  the  commissioner,  who  immediately  af 
terwards  got  into  the  military  ambulance  in 
waiting  and  started  for  the  fort  farther  up 
the  river. 

Ralph  watched  the  vehicle  depart  with  a 
strange  feeling  of  relief.  He  stood  looking 
after  it  and  mastering  his  nerves  for  several 
minutes.  The  girl  who  had  sprung  up  like 
an  angry  quail  among  the  squaws  had  given 
him  quite  a  shock. 

"  White  Light,  she's  nobody!"  he  muttered ; 
but  the  sneer  did  not  dispel  his  uneasiness. 
146 


RALPH  WILTON'S  DESTINY 

White  Light  might  be  nobody  but  a  squaw 
of  an  obscure  family,  but  for  all  that  she 
possessed  a  power  which  had  suddenly  caused 
Ralph  to  fear  her.  She  knew  English.  She 
knew  he  had  perverted  the  commissioner's 
words. 

Ralph  got  a  bucket  of  crackers  from  the 
store  presently,  and  took  it  to  where  the 
squaws  were  still  sitting. 

"My  treat!"  he  cried,  pleasantly,  passing 
them  around. 

White  Light  had  taken  a  young  child  from 
one  of  the  women,  and  it  .lay  sleeping  in 
her  arms.  When  Ralph  handed  her  the 
crackers  she  shook  her  head.  Ralph  shot  a 
disturbed  glance  at  her ;  he  wanted  to  make 
friends. 

''Take  some,"  he  urged. 

"I'm  not  hungry,"  she  replied,  nursing  the 
child. 

Ralph  tossed  the  rest  of  the  crackers  to 
some  children.  He  stood  beside  White  Light, 
and  looked  down  at  her  with  a  hard  smile 
which  was  intended  to  be  genial. 

"Well,  how  do  you  find  things  in  Strong 


ADVENTURES   WITH  INDIANS 

Arm's  camp?  Pretty  stupid  after  Carlisle, 
eh?"  he  asked.  He  never  had  troubled  him 
self  to  talk  to  White  Light  before,  though  she 
had  been  home  three  months. 

"  I  keep  busy,"  she  answered. 

"Busy?  Now  what  are  you  busy  at?" 
Ralph's  tone  was  quite  sharp,  though  he  did 
not  realize  it.  He  waited  intently  for  her 
reply. 

White  Light  raised  her  eyes  from  the  child. 
She  had  a  quiet  manner,  but  it  held  no  trace 
of  self -distrust  or  timidity. 

"  I  am  teaching  the  children  to  understand 
English,"  she  said,  with  a  ring  of  indigna 
tion. 

Ralph  disconcertedly  shuffled  off  a  few 
steps  to  recover  from  the  second  shock  he 
had  received. 

A  school  started  under  his  very  eyes  with 
out  his  knowing  it!  Education  was  like  a 
dreaded  disease  to  Ralph.  Once  let  it  come 
among  the  Indians,  and  his  work  with  them 
was  doomed.  An  agent's  position  was  not 
lucrative  if  he  was  constrained  to  act  hon 
estly.  Ralph's  finely  conceived  schemes  for 
148 


RALPH  WILTON'S   DESTINY 

growing  rich  in  a  few  years  must  come  to 
nothing  the  moment  the  Indians  understood 
what  to  expect  in  dealing  with  him. 

White  Light  spoke  to  the  mother  of  the 
child.  She  thought  he  seemed  ill.  They 
decided  to  take  him  home,  and  presently, 
mounting  their  ponies,  they  rode  away. 

Ralph  walked  thoughtfully  over  to  the 
store.  Near  the  door  a  boy  was  marking 
the  ground  with  a  stick.  He  started  off 
as  Ralph  approached.  Ralph  looked  down 
curiously,  and  saw  that  he  had  been  draw 
ing  the  alphabet.  He  frowned  angrily.  The 
disease  of  learning  apparently  was  making 
headway.  He  must  get  at  the  roots  and 
destroy  it  at  once. 

"Come  here,  Arrow,  I've  some  candy  for 
you!"  he  called  to  the  boy. 

Arrow  returned  slowly;  the  children  were 
afraid  of  the  agent. 

Ralph  took  him  into  the  store,  and  fed  him 
generously. 

"  You  boys  from  Strong  Arm's  camp  don't 
come  down  to  the  agency  much  any  more," 
he  observed. 

149 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

"We  can't,"  Arrow  replied.  "We  go  to 
White  Light's  school  every  day  now." 

"Who  makes  you  do  that?" 

"Nobody;  we  like  to  go.  White  Light 
tells  us  about  the  wonderful  things  the  whites 
do.  When  we  learn  to  talk  and  read  we  can 
do  the  same." 

"  Nonsense !"  Ralph  threw  out  more  candy. 
"  The  whites  don't  have  half  as  good  times  as 
Indians.  Why,  they're  regular  slaves!  Look 
at  how  I  have  to  work,  and  what  little  fun  I 
have!  7  can't  spend  my  time  hunting  and 
playing.  The  government  don't  support  me 
for  nothing.  And  it  won't  support  the  Ind 
ians  either  if  they  get  educated.  It  '11  make 
them  take  care  of  themselves,  that's  what  it 
will  do!  I  tell  you,  Arrow,  I'm  the  Indians' 
friend,  and  they  better  listen  to  me.  Educa 
tion's  bad  medicine !  You  children  '11  leave 
it  alone  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you. 
Stop  wasting  your  time  in  school.  Come 
over  to  the  agency  and  have  some  fun. 
Tell  the  girls  and  boys  I'm  going  to  open 
a  box  of  raisins  for  them  on  killing  - 
day." 

150 


RALPH   WILTON'S    DESTINY 

An  expectant  look  flashed  into  Arrow's 
eyes,  but  quickly  died  out  again. 

"  White  Light  don't  want  us  to  come  to  see 
them  kill  the  beeves,"  he  said.  "  She  says  it 
makes  us  feel  cruel." 

Ralph  flushed  hotly. 

"White  Light's  just  trying  to  spoil  every 
bit  of  sport  there  is!"  he  exclaimed.  "  Don't 
you  listen  to  her.  Come,  as  you  always  do, 
and  watch  the  beeves  killed  and  cut  up.  I'll 
see  that  each  of  you  get  a  bit  of  liver  to  eat 
while  it's  warm  and  bloody." 

Ralph  threw  out  such  prospects  as  baits 
to  rouse  the  young  savage's  more  brutal  in 
stincts. 

Arrow's  manly  little  head  was  dropped 
when  he  left  the  store. 

After  all,  it  was  womanish  to  listen  to 
White  Light! 

However,  none  of  White  Light's  scholars 
appeared  at  the  agency  on  killing -day,  and 
Ralph  was  much  annoyed  to  learn,  on  care 
ful  inquiry,  that  her  influence  with  the  chil 
dren  was  backed  up  by  Strong  Arm.  Strong 
Arm's  word  was  powerful  among  his  people, 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

and  Ralph  knew  very  well  that  he  must  not 
seem  to  oppose  him.  He  must  fight  in 
directly. 

One  day  he  rode  out  to  Strong  Arm's 
camp.  On  the  way  he  met  a  large  party  of 
young  men  starting  on  a  hunt. 

''Get  lots  of  skins!"  Ralph  cried  to  them. 
He  wanted  to  send  them  East  on  the  last 
boat  of  the  season,  that  soon  would  be  com 
ing  up  the  river. 

The  first  person  he  encountered  on  en 
tering  the  village  of  rude  huts  was  the 
mother  of  the  child  who  had  been  ill  the  day 
of  the  conference. 

Ralph  stopped  and  spoke  to  her.  He  was 
trying  to  make  himself  more  popular  with 
the  people  lately. 

"How's  Moon?"  he  inquired. 

"Oh,  he's  all  well,"  the  mother  replied, 
contentedly.  "White  Light  gave  him  some 
of  her  little  white  pills." 

"White  Light!     Where  was  Elk  Tooth?" 

The  squaw  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Oh,  well,  White  Light  said  blowing  pow 
der  up  a  baby's  nose  wasn't  the  best  way  to 
152 


RALPH   WILTON'S    DESTINY 

cure  a  fever,  and  she  said  Elk  Tooth  made 
Moon  worse  dancing  about  with  his  rattle,  so 
we  let  her  take  him.  She's  doctored  several 
children." 

"Where  can  I  find  White  Light?" 

Ralph's  voice  was  so  sharp  it  startled  the 
woman.  She  pointed  out  White  Light's 
house. 

White  Light  was  teaching  four  little  girls 
to  sew  when  Ralph  appeared  at  the  open 
doorway. 

"Good-morning,"  he  said,  agreeably.  "I 
come  to  tell  you  something  that  will  interest 
you." 

White  Light  regarded  him  seriously.  She 
had  no  faith  in  the  agent. 

"They're  wanting  an  Indian  teacher  over 
at  the  Rosebud  boarding-school,  and  I  be 
lieve  you  can  get  the  place  with  my  recom 
mend,"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,"  White  Light  replied,  un 
hesitatingly;  "but  my  work  is  here  at  home." 

"It's  good  pay,"  remarked  Ralph,  "and 
you'd  have  a  decent  place  to  live."  He 
glanced  about.  "  I  say,  it's  awful  hard  for 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

the  young  folk  to  come  back  to  village  life 
after  being  civilized!" 

White  Light's  face  lighted  fervently. 

"That's  my  main  reason  for  wishing  to 
remain,"  she  said.  "I  can  show  them  how 
to  live  in  a  cleaner  and  healthier  way.  I 
want  to  do  all  I  can  to  make  things  better  for 
Two  Trees  and  Mary  Small  Foot  and  Lark, 
who  are  coming  home  in  the  spring." 

"They're  all  coming  back  from  school?" 

"Yes,  and  four  boys  are  coming  to  Old 
Bull's  camp."  White  Light's  note  was  tri 
umphant.  She  was  not  mistaken  in  reading 
the  look  on  Ralph's  face  as  fear. 

"You  better  think  about  that  school,"  he 
said,  as  he  rode  off;  but  he  knew  the  girl 
would  not  leave  her  people. 

About  a  week  later  the  hunters  brought 
in  their  supplies  of  hides  to  the  agency 
store. 

White  Light  accompanied  the  party.  She 
stood  about  while  the  hides  were  being  bar 
gained  for.  She  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  Ralph, 
and  it  made  him  nervous.  He  paid  higher 
prices  than  ever  before  for  the  hides.  When 


RALPH   WILTON'S   DESTINY 

the  transaction  was  concluded  he  suddenly 
opened  a  showcase. 

"Here,  White  Light,"  he  said,  "I  want  to 
give  you  this  silver  bracelet." 

She  drew  back  slightly.  "  I  don't  wear 
those  ornaments  any  more,"  she  said. 

Ralph  flung  the  bracelet  back  savagely. 
He  could  not  propitiate  this  force.  It  wTould 
go  on  quietly  working  against  him.  It  was 
destiny ! 

He  sat  meditating  gloomily  for  a  long  time 
after  the  Indians  left  the  store.  He  glanced 
with  chagrin  at  the  cash-drawer,  emptied  to 
pay  for  the  skins. 

At  length  a  whistle  was  heard,  and  at  the 
sound  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  He  was  resolved 
what  to  do. 

"  My  time  here's  up,"  he  muttered.  "  I'm 
not  fool  enough  to  stay  next  year,  when 
they'll  all  be  back.  I'll  just  make  one  good 
haul  and  pull  out." 

The  whistle  came  from  the  steamer  plying 
up  the  Missouri.  It  stopped  at  the  agency 
and  left  a  large  quantity  of  goods. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Indians  flocked 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

to  the  store.  They  understood  that  their 
annuities  had  come.  They  learned  disap 
pointedly,  however,  that  the  goods  were  some 
ordered  for  the  store.  Ralph  and  the  four 
men  in  his  employ  said  so. 

The  Indians  were  greatly  troubled.  It 
was  the  last  steamer  that  would  come  from 
the  East  that  season.  The  weather  already 
was  quite  cold.  Many  of  them  had  no  blankets. 

"  You'll  have  to  buy  these,"  said  Ralph. 
"Mason  '11  sell  'em  pretty  cheap,  and  you'd 
better  lay  in  a  supply  of  food  while  the  stock 
lasts." 

The  poor  people  saw  no  alternative.  They 
felt  themselves  forced  to  exchange  all  the 
money  and  valuables  they  possessed  for  the 
actual  necessities  of  life.  They  complained 
passionately  at  the  government's  failure  to 
keep  its  word. 

Ralph  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  know  what  to  do,"  he  said.  "  Every 
time  the  Indians  go  on  the  war  -  path  they 
get  what  they  want ;  but  let  them  live  along 
peacefully  a  few  years  and  they're  forgot 
ten." 

156 


RALPH   WILTON'S   DESTINY 

Such  words  frequently  repeated  were  well 
calculated  to  produce  the  effect  Ralph  de 
sired,  for  an  outbreak  would  most  effectually 
obliterate  the  tracks  of  his  wrong-doing. 

The  Indians  began  to  hold  war -councils; 
they  danced  at  night,  and  the  braves  looked 
to  their  ponies. 

Ralph,  meanwhile,  was  quietly  preparing 
to  slip  away  from  the  agency  on  the  steamer 
when  it  should  make  its  return  trip  down  the 
river. 

The  day  it  was  expected  he  had  a  reckoning 
with  his  men.  He  divided  a  portion  of  the 
money  from  the  annuity  sales  with  them. 

"You  help  me  get  the  hides  on  the 
steamer,"  he  said,  "  and  then  you  make  tracks 
up-country  fast  as  you  can.  I  rather  guess 
the  outbreak  will  come  soon  as  they  find  I'm 
gone.  They're  pretty  sure  to  get  onto  the 
fact  that  I've  sold  them  their  annuities  in  a 
few  days,  anyway." 

As  he  spoke  one  of  the  men  glanced  towards 
the  door.  Ralph  turned  round  and  beheld 
White  Light  standing  there. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?"  he  cried,  harshly. 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

White  Light  had  really  come  to  buy  some 
needles,  but  she  did  not  ask  for  them  now. 
She  braced  her  nerves  to  meet  Ralph's  eyes 
calmly. 

"  I  want  to  know  if  you'll  please  lend  me 
your  gray  horse  for  a  little  ride,"  she  said. 

Ralph  was  relieved  at  this  request.  He 
was  glad  to  get  her  away  from  the  agency 
as  quickly  as  possible.  He  replied,  cordial 
ly,  that  she  might  borrow  the  horse.  He 
fetched  it  for  her  himself.  He  watched  her 
ride  away.  When  she  had  gone  a  few  rods 
she  started  the  horse,  a  famously  fleet  ani 
mal,  at  a  fast  gallop. 

It  was  not  until  she  was  well  away  that 
the  purpose  of  her  morning  ride  occurred  to 
Ralph. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed,  "I've  helped 
her  to  go  to  the  front  and  inform  against 
me!  She  heard  my  talk  to  the  men!"  After 
one  appalled  moment  he  laughed.  "She'll 
be  fooled  this  trip,"  he  thought.  By  the 
time  they  could  possibly  march  to  the  agency 
from  the  fort  he  would  be  off  on  the  boat. 
The  boat,  carried  by  the  current,  descended 
158 


RALPH   WILTON'S   DESTINY 

the  Missouri  with  remarkable  swiftness.  It 
might  even  pass  the  fort  after  White  Light 
reached  it,  and  still  get  to  the  agency  before 
the  troops  could  march  there. 

Ralph  felt  himself  safe.  He  did  not  tell 
his  men  about  White  Light.  He  knew  they 
would  be  alarmed  and  leave  at  once,  and  he 
wanted  them  to  help  load  his  immense  cargo 
of  hides  onto  the  steamer.  Then  they  might 
shift  for  themselves.  It  would  be  flight  from 
the  law  as  well  as  from  the  Indians  now  for 
them  all. 

The  steamer  came  in  sight  about  two 
o'clock.  Ralph  waited  at  the  landing  among 
his  bales  of  hides.  Some  Indians  were  about, 
but  they  had  no  suspicion  of  his  intention  to 
desert. 

The  steamer  came  rapidly,  but  just  above 
the  agency  it  struck  a  sand-bar.  The  river 
was  low  at  that  season. 

Ralph  nervously  watched  the  roustabouts 
work  with  long  poles  to  get  free  from  the 
sand.  Sometimes  steamers  stuck  for  several 
hours.  Fate  might  play  against  him,  after 
all,  and  the  troops  come  in  time  to  prevent 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

his  departure.  He  scowled  heavily  to  think 
how  he  had  helped  White  Light  by  lending 
her  his  swift  horse.  No  other  one  about 
could  journey  so  expeditiously.  At  last  he 
uttered  a  heartfelt  hurrah  when  the  steam 
er  moved. 

As  it  stopped  at  the  agency  a  deck-hand 
pushed  out  the  plank.  Ralph  eagerly  caught 
at  the  rope  and  helped  to  pull  it  into  posi 
tion.  Then,  looking  round,  he  started  vio 
lently.  An  army  officer  had  his  foot  on  the 
upper  end  of  the  plank.  Behind  him  a  num 
ber  of  soldiers  were  issuing  from  the  cabin, 
and  with  them  was  a  United  States  marshal 
accompanied  by  White  Light.  Realizing  the 
futility  of  trying  to  reach  the  agency  in  time 
by  marching,  they  had  boarded  the  steamer 
as  it  passed  the  fort. 

Ralph  was  too  securely  trapped  to  make 
escape  possible.  He  attempted  to  explain 
his  actions  plausibly  by  saying  that,  appre 
hending  an  outbreak,  he  was  going  to  leave 
the  agency  for  safety.  But  the  cause  of  the 
trouble  was  soon  made  plain,  and  it  did  not 
help  Ralph's  cause. 

160 


RALPH   WILTON'S    DESTINY 

The  bad  feeling  among  the  Indians  was  dis 
pelled  when  it  was  explained  to  them  that 
the  blankets  and  food  they  had  bought  right 
fully  belonged  to  them,  and  that  whatever 
they  had  paid  should  be  returned. 

They  severally  presented  their  claims,  and 
Ralph  was  forced  to  return  what  he  had  taken 
from  them.  White  Light  acted  as  interpre 
ter  to  the  marshal  and  officer. 

When  affairs  had  been  readjusted  as  far 
as  possible,  Ralph  was  forced  to  accompany 
the  marshal  back  to  town. 

Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  agency  the 
man  who  had  been  despatched  to  fill  Ralph's 
place  arrived.  The  new  man  had  had  large 
experience  with  the  Indians,  and  intelligently 
sympathized  with  their  condition.  He  would 
trustily  interest  himself  in  their  welfare.  He 
passed  into  the  store  like  a  note  of  glad  tidings 
to  the  poor  people  as  Ralph  passed  out. 


ONE    TOUCH    OF    NATURE 

A  Story  of  the  Senecas 

|HAT  d'  ye  think  it  all  means?" 
said  Mark  Lytte,  peering  through 
the  tangled  thicket  of  hazel  and 
sumach,  where  the  earliest  au 
tumn  dyes  had  begun  to  lay  their  crimson. 

Buckskin,  before  answering  his  young 
comrade,  pondered  on  the  scene  before  him. 
In  the  hollow  nestling  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
and  clasped  in  the  bend  of  the  river  lay  the 
large  Indian  village,  all  astir  with  motion  and 
excitement.  But  it  seemed  not  to  be  the 
fever  of  war  and  slaughter  which  so  often 
convulses  the  aboriginal  man,  but  a  jubilee 
of  mirth  and  innocent  delight.  They  were 
looking  down  on  one  of  the  most  considerable 
towns  of  the  Seneca  tribe  in  western  New 
York,  near  what  is  now  Clean.  Hurrying 
162 


ONE   TOUCH  OF   NATURE 

through  the  village  streets,  laughing  groups 
of  dark-skinned  youths  and  maids  carried 
wreaths  of  wild-flowers,  branches  of  trees, 
and  great  sheaves  of  maize-stalks  towards  a 
lofty  pole  which  towered  in  the  centre. 

"To  think  I  shouldn't  'a'  known  quick  as 
powder  flashin'!"  finally  said  Buckskin  John, 
whose  iron  face  and  tanned  skin  showed  his 
occupation  no  less  than  his  garb.  "It's  the 
Feast  of  the  Green  Corn*  among  these  Iro- 
quois  devils,  an'  then  they're  allus  as  frisky 
as  so  many  lambs.  They  put  off  the  wolf 
skin  for  a  while,  but  they  keep  it  mighty 
handy,  I  kin  tell  ye." 

"Perhaps  it  '11  give  us  a  better  chance  to 
try  our  luck,"  answered  Mark,  whose  face 
was  that  of  a  lad  of  sixteen,  though  his  height 
and  the  sturdy  square  of  his  chest  looked 
older.  He  wrung  his  hands  excitedly,  and 

*  The  Feast  of  the  Green  Corn  among  the  powerful 
Iroquois  Confederacy,  or  Six  Nations,  occurred  in  the 
latter  part  of  August  or  early  September.  Its  rites  so 
resembled  the  Hebrew  Feast  of  the  Tabernacles  that  it 
furnished  an  additional  argument  for  the  notion  that 
the  American  Indians  were  remotely  descended  from 
the  ten  lost  tribes  of  Israel. 

163 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

continued,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice,  shaking 
his  long  rifle  in  the  direction  of  the  village: 
"What  can  we  do?  I  shall  go  crazy  if  we 
fail.  Mother's  grievin'  to  death,  fadin'  each 
month  into  a  mere  shadder.  'Twas  all  right 
till  last  year,  Buckskin,  and  she  showed  no 
sign  but  what  she'd  a'most  forgot  about 
our  lost  Nellie.  Then  we  heard  of  the  little 
white  gal  in  Cornplanter's  village,  and  that 
he  was  the  very  chief  who  made  the  raid 
when  we  lived  at  Fort  Pitt.  Then  Gunnel 
Johnson  over  to  Fort  Niagara,  though  he  did 
fight  agin  us  in  the  late  war,  came  to  see 
Cornplanter  six  months  ago.  An'  the  chief 
would  say  nuthin'  but  that  the  little  gal, 
whoever  her  parents  were,  was  no  longer 
white,  but  Indian,  his  adopted  sister,  whom 
he  loved  dearer  than  life.  That  broke  moth 
er's  heart,  for  she  began  to  pine  soon  as  she 
found  as  Cornplanter  ud  never  let  the  cap 
tive  free." 

Mark's  brief  rehearsal   did   scant  justice 
to  a  typical  drama  of  the  border.     Six  years 
before,  during  the  early  days  of  the  Revolu 
tionary  War,  a  war-party  of  the  Senecas  had 
164 


ONE   TOUCH   OF   NATURE 

made  an  irruption  into  western  Pennsylvania, 
and  among  their  captives  was  a  girl  of  four 
years  old  belonging  to  the  Lytte  family.  The 
great  chief  who  shares  with  Red  Jacket  the 
highest  mark  in  Seneca  tradition  took  the 
trembling  captive  to  his  mother  with  the 
words : 

"  My  mother,  I  bring  to  you  a  daughter  to 
supply  the  place  of  my  brother,  killed  by  the 
Lenape  six  moons  ago.  She  shall  dwell  in 
my  lodge  and  be  my  sister."  So  little  Elea 
nor  Lytte  became  Ma-za-ri-ta,  ''the  Ship  un 
der  Full  Sail,"  so  named  from  her  joyous  and 
energetic  disposition. 

"Waal,  we'll  have  to  go  slow,"  Buckskin 
had  answered  his  companion.  "I'll  resk  my 
topknot  to  help  ye,  lad,  but  we'll  see  how  the 
Ian'  lays."  The  old  hunter  knew  that  at 
this  festival-time  hospitality  would  be  flung 
with  both  hands  to  all  comers.  So  they 
moved  down  the  hill  into  the  main  village 
street,  wiiere  a  tall  Indian,  with  all  the  in 
signia  of  a  great  sagamore  in  his  tattooing, 
head-dress,  and  port,  received  them  with  a 
grave  welcome. 

'65 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

"My  white  brothers  have  come  to  the 
green-corn  feast  of  the  Senecas.  They  are 
welcome.  Our  hearts  are  glad,  and  all  we 
have  is  theirs."  Then  he  ordered  his  guests 
conducted  to  a  well-built  log-house,  where  a 
generous  provision  for  all  their  wants  was 
found.  They  had  scarcely  satisfied  their 
simple  needs  when  the  music  of  Indian  flutes 
and  drums  drew  them  to  the  door,  and  there 
they  found  the  messenger  ready  to  conduct 
them  to  the  "long  house,"  where  the  pro 
cession  was  forming  which  would  begin  the 
festivities. 

Foremost,  hand  -  in  -  hand  with  the  chief, 
was  a  brilliant  little  figure,  a  girl  about  ten 
years  old.  With  a  skin  naturally  snow-white, 
but  now  kissed  to  a  ruddy  hue  by  the  sun 
shine,  and  long,  brown  plaits  glittering  with 
the  most  brilliant  beads;  petticoat  and  bod 
ice  of  the  finest  broadcloth,  and  around  her 
neck  and  shoulders  rows  of  silver  brooches 
and  strings  of  white -and -purple  wampum; 
on  her  feet  deer-skin  moccasins  embroidered 
with  porcupine  quills,  contrasting  with  the 
scarlet  leggings  above  —  Ma-za-ri-ta  looked, 
166 


ONE   TOUCH  OF   NATURE 

indeed,  the  fit  princess  of  the  revels.  The 
pride  which  shone  in  Cornplanter's  eyes,  the 
admiration  with  which  all  the  Indians  gazed 
on  the  dancing-girl — for  her  feet  had  already 
begun  to  move  to  a  nimble  measure — struck 
a  chill  to  the  heart  of  Mark,  for  it  seemed  a 
portent  of  sure  defeat.  Her  blue  eyes  spar 
kled  with  joy  as  she  danced  in  the  van,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Seneca  girls  in  pairs,  all  attired 
in  gala  dress,  and  with  wreaths  of  flowers 
on  their  heads.  Then  came  Cornplanter  and 
his  lesser  chiefs,  the  warriors,  the  squaws,  and 
the  children,  and  the  march  advanced  to 
the  pole  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  shaped 
in  a  square  enclosure,  that  painted  pole 
horribly  etched  with  the  scars  of  innumer 
able  tomahawks  when  the  frenzy  of  war-dan 
cing  made  it  the  symbol  of  the  enemy's  body. 
Now  the  great  mast  was  belted  thick  with 
greenery  to  its  very  top,  corn-stalks  with 
pendent  ears,  bunches  of  golden-rod,  and  all 
the  richest  spoil  of  the  thickets  and  mead 
ows.  Ma-za-ri-ta's  sweet  voice,  as  the  dance 
of  the  maidens  gyrated  more  and  more  swift 
ly  about  the  gorgeous  pillar,  led  the  chant 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

among  the  more  shrill  and  unmusical  notes  of 
her  companions. 

Mark  edged  his  way  through  the  throng, 
for  a  fancy  had  suddenly  come  to  him,  and 
he  stood  in  the  inner  ring  next  the  circle  of 
dancers. 

" Nellie!  little  Nellie!  don't  you  remember 
Mark?"  he  said,  in  a  piercing  whisper,  as  she 
approached  several  paces  in  the  van  of  her 
choir. 

Ma-za-ri-ta  slowed  her  pace,  looking  at 
him  wonderingly  with  a  flush  of  offended 
pride,  for  the  little  princess  felt  she  was  the 
queen  of  the  Senecas,  child  as  she  was.  Again, 
as  she  neared  his  place  she  heard  the  words, 
"Nellie,  can't  you  remember?"  The  beauti 
ful  child  face  was  troubled,  as  though  some 
dumb,  vague  memory  were  stirring  under 
the  surface,  but  again  she  moved  on,  shak 
ing  her  head.  Bitterly  did  Mark  bewail  his 
failure  to  Buckskin,  for,  "I'm  sure,"  he  said, 
"she  is  our  lost  Nellie,  and  I  can  see  our 
mother's  look  in  her  pretty  eyes."  Some 
thing  worked  like  yeast  in  the  old  hunter's 
thoughts  as  he  listened  in  silence  to  Mark's 
1 68 


ONE   TOUCH  OF   NATURE 

passionate,  rambling  words  that  night,  when 
all  the  camp  was  hushed  to  silence  and  they 
lay  tossing  on  their  bear-skins. 

"Why  don't  you  answer?"  the  boy  burst 
out,  with  petulance. 

"Mark,  I'm  glad,"  the  other  said,  deliber 
ately,  "that  there  seems  to  be  no  chance  of 
takin'  the  little  gal  away  by  force  or  cheat- 
in'.  I  rayther  guess  there's  a  doggone  poor 
show  of  doin'  anything  that-a-way,  and  we 
might  'a'  known  it  afore.  But  I'll  swar  she's 
her  mother's  darter,  as  ye  said  a  minnit  since, 
and  when  ye  talk  about  the  mother,  thar's 
the  key  of  the  hull  sityvashun,  as  the  lawyer 
chaps  ud  say.  Ye  don't  quite  unnerstan' 
what  I  mean,  hey?  Waal,  it's  jes'  this,  my 
young  master.  Your  mammy  must  come 
down  here  to  Cornplanter's  village,  and  she'll 
do  mor'n  all  the  guns  and  bagnets  of  General 
St.  Clair's  army  to  get  the  little  gal  back,  ef 
so  be  she  is  the  right  one,  and  I  genooinely 
believe  it.  The  chief  loves  his  adopted  sister 
with  every  drop  of  his  blood,  and  his  people 
adore  her  as  their  little  princess.  They'd 
lay  their  lives  down  afore  givin'  her  up,  on- 
169 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

less  ye  tech  'em  jes'  right.  But  I  know  'em 
well,  bloodthirsty  varmints  and  wild  beasts 
as  they  are  when  you  cross  'em,  and  a  red 
skin's  got  a  heart  as  beats  big  and  strong  as 
any  white  man's,  ef  ye  can  find  it  oncet.  Then 
I've  heerd  uv  Cornplanter  fur  the  last  fifteen 
year,  and  they  all  say  he's  one  of  the  best  as 
well  as  bravest  critturs  as  ever  wore  a  scalp- 
lock.  Cheer  up,  laddie;  we'll  git  her,  but 
we  can't  do  it  yet.  Trust  ole  Buckskin's 
idee." 

Buckskin's  solace  scarcely  calmed  Mark's 
restlessness,  and  after  the  hunter's  snores 
proved  him  in  the  realm  of  dreams  he  arose 
with  the  idea  of  strolling  through  the  moon 
lit  village  and  walking  off  the  fancies  that 
would  not  let  him  sleep.  The  lonely  streets 
were  wrapped  in  the  pallid  shine  which  silhou 
etted  the  log-houses  and  the  trees  in  ghostly 
shadows,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  occa 
sional  howl  of  a  distant  wolf  or  the  snarl  of 
an  Indian  dog,  he  might  have  fancied  him 
self  the  only  waking  creature.  He  wandered 
aimlessly,  in  a  maze  of  fear  and  doubt  as  to 
what  would  be  the  outcome  of  it  all.  His 
170 


ONE   TOUCH   OF   NATURE 

careless  footsteps  finally  carried  him  to  the 
edge  of  the  village,  where,  at  the  very  shadow 
of  the  forest,  stood  a  large  double  house  apart 
from  all  the  others.  Then  he  saw  he  was  not 
the  only  sleepless  soul,  for  from  its  doorway 
glided  a  figure  whose  height  and  garb — for 
the  moonlight  glittered  on  the  costly  bead- 
work — showed  it  to  be  the  one  who  filled  his 
heart  full  to  bursting.  He  forgot  all  prudence 
and  doubt,  and  sprang  forward  swiftly. 

"Nellie!  Nellie!"  he  cried,  in  tones  that 
cut  the  silent  air  like  a  knife.  "  I  am  your 
brother  Mark — your  playmate  that  loved  you 
so  dearly.  Come  home  with  me  to  mammy, 
who  is  dying  for  you,  away  from  this  dread 
ful  place.  A  long  time  ago  they  carried  you 
away  from  us,  and  now  I've  found  you  again, 
and  will  not  let  you  go,  my  darling  little 
sister."  He  forgot  all  the  surroundings — all 
but  need  of  giving  voice  to  the  feeling  that 
shook  him  as  the  wind  shakes  the  leaves  in 
the  trees. 

Ma-za-ri-ta's  face  quivered  in  the  starlight 
as  she  shrank  from  the  hand  that  eagerly 
clutched  her  arm,  as  if  he  would  have  led 
171 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

her  away  at  once;  then  something  like  half- 
awakened  intelligence  was  quenched  in  a  wave 
of  blind  terror,  and  she  shrieked  aloud. 

A  tall  figure  leaped  like  a  tiger  from  the 
dark  of  the  doorway,  and  Mark  felt  the  grip 
of  iron  fingers  on  his  throat  which  threatened 
to  strangle  him.  As  he  lay  helpless  in  that 
clutch,  he  saw  an  upraised  tomahawk  spar 
kling  in  the  moonshine ;  but  Cornplanter  did 
not  strike,  though  his  words  were  edged  with 
cutting  disdain. 

"Such  is  the  honor  of  pale-faces,"  said  he; 
"from  the  cub  to  the  full-grown  wolf  the 
same.  The  Senecas  welcomed  their  guests 
and  did  them  honor.  Their  hearts  were  warm 
and  friendly,  for  it  is  now  their  festival  of 
peace  and  good- will.  But  what  should  they 
do  to  one  who  would  steal  in  the  dark  and 
rob  them  of  their  dearest?" 

"Do?"  said  another  voice,  for  Mark  was 
speechless  with  rage,  shame,  and  impotence, 
and  Buckskin  darted  forward,  grasping  Corn- 
planter's  uplifted  arm,  though  the  chief 
showed  no  immediate  purpose  to  use  his 
gleaming  weapon.  "Do?  They  should  re- 
172 


ONE   TOUCH   OF   NATURE 

spect  the  voice  of  natur'  and  blood  cry  in' 
aloud!"  Honest  Buckskin  had  wakened  sud 
denly,  and,  alarmed  at  Mark's  absence, 
sought  him  through  the  Indian  village. 
"Look  ye  here,  chief,  this  is  a  foolish  boy, 
and  he  couldn't  'a'  done  what  ye  think  had 
he  been  in  ever  so  much  airnest.  But  he 
suspecks  he's  found  his  little  sister  that  you 
and  yourn  took  from  his  mammy's  arms  six 
year  ago  durin'  the  time  o'  fightin'.  The 
great  Seneca  is  just;  and  let  him  say,  then, 
who's  the  thief,  ef  it  comes  to  a  matter  o' 
stealin'." 

The  fierceness  of  Cornplanter's  eyes  still 
threatened  the  offender  in  spite  of  the  hunt 
er's  plea.  But  Ma-za-ri-ta,  who  had  listened 
with  shifting  emotions  chasing  over  her  face, 
vainly  striving  to  pierce  the  meaning  of  the 
words,  now  threw  her  arms  about  the  neck  of 
the  chief  and  spoke  rapidly  in  the  Seneca 
tongue.  The  Indian's  stern  aspect  melted 
and  took  on  its  more  wonted  expression,  in 
which  there  was  something  almost  benignant. 

"Go  without  harm  even  while  it  is  night," 
he  said,  "lest  the  Senecas  discover  all,  and 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

sore  mischief  befall."  He  brought  them 
their  arms,  loaded  their  wallets  with  food, 
and  dismissed  them.  And  as  Mark  turned 
before  entering  the  forest  he  caught  a  last 
look  of  Ma-za-ri-ta,  watching  their  retreating 
footsteps  with  clasped  hands  and  head  bent 
forward. 

It  was  about  a  week  afterwards  that 
Colonel  Johnson  received  a  visit  at  Fort 
Niagara,  in  Canada,  just  across  the  river, 
which  whetted  his  interest  keenly.  This 
whilom  British  agent  of  the  Iroquois  tribes 
still  exercised  a  powerful  influence  over  them, 
though  their  territory  now  belonged  to  the 
conceded  limits  of  the  new  republic.  To  him 
they  looked  even  yet  for  advice  and  au 
thority.  He  recognized  the  Lyttes,  mother 
and  son  (for  the  father  was  dead),  and  his 
feelings  guessed  shrewdly  at  the  occasion  as 
they  walked  up  the  esplanade  from  the  jetty 
where  they  had  landed. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Lytte,"  he  said,  after  the  first 
look  at  her  pale  and  working  features,  which 
were  full  of  news,  "  I  see  you've  learned  some 
thing  more." 


ONE   TOUCH   OF   NATURE 

"Gunnel,  in  the  name  of  God,  and  for  the 
sake  of  your  own  dear  wife  and  children,  you 
must  help  me  now,"  the  woman  gasped,  for 
her  throat  was  too  full.  "Mark  has  jes' 
come  from  Cornplanter's  village,  and  he  says 
for  sure  and  sure  it's  little  Nellie.  An'  she 
didn't  know  him!  But,  Gunnel,  she  will 
know  the  mammy  that  bore  her  and  gave 
her  suck,  for  I'll  die  of  a  broken  heart  ef 
she  don't." 

"We  must  trust  for  the  best,  my  dear 
lady,"  said  he,  cheerily.  "The  first  thing 
will  be  the  child's  knowing  you.  That 
clearly  proven,  the  question  will  be  as  to 
Cornplanter.  It  will  be  a  knock-down  blow, 
but  the  Seneca  has  great  qualities.  He  may 
set  his  face  against  it  like  flint,  yet  I  shall  be 
surprised  if  he  thinks  of  self  alone  in  the 
matter.  And  what  idea  did  you  get  of  Corn- 
planter?"  he  concluded,  turning  to  Mark. 

"Pretty  good  for  an  Indian,"  said  Mark, 
moodily;  "but  ef  he  don't  give  up  Nellie  to 
mother,  I'll  brain  him  with  his  own  hatchet, 
ef  I  die  for  it  next  minute." 

"Well  crowed,  young  cockerel,"  laughed 
*a  175 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

the  Colonel,  "but  we'll  find  better  weapons 
than  tomahawks.  It's  the  heart  and  not 
the  skull  we've  got  to  reach."  There  was 
no  need  to  waste  time,  and  quick  outfit  was 
made  for  the  journey  to  the  Seneca  village, 
about  eighty  miles  away. 

Cornplanter  received  the  message  from  the 
Indian  runner,  giving  warning  of  Colonel 
Johnson's  proposed  visit,  but  with  no  further 
hint  of  purpose.  Yet  he  felt  a  keen  pang 
of  foreboding.  Stoic  as  he  was,  there  was 
something  in  the  air  that  mocked  him  with 
the  notion  of  fate  lying  in  ambush  close  at 
hand.  As  Ma-za-ri-ta  afterwards  recalled,  the 
chief  treated  her  with  a  clinging,  pathetic 
tenderness  during  these  days  she  had  never 
known  before.  And  finally,  when  he  saw 
with  Colonel  Johnson  the  youth  who  had 
been  his  recent  guest,  and  a  pale-faced  wom 
an  with  questioning  gaze  that  wandered  and 
hunted  like  that  of  a  mad  woman,  it  was  no 
longer  guesswork.  It  was  as  if  a  bullet  had 
pierced  his  chest.  The  Englishman  knew  his 
man,  and  made  a  plain  appeal  with  all  the 
force  of  that  bullet. 

176 


ONE   TOUCH   OF   NATURE 

Cornplanter  heard  with  a  stern,  impassive 
face.  "  My  father's  words  are  good  and  just," 
he  said .  ' '  Let  Ma-za-ri-ta  decide . ' '  And  hope 
knocked  again  faintly  at  the  gate  that  his 
little  sister  would  not  know  the  white  woman 
who  had  come  to  rob  him  of  his  heart's  blood. 
The  girl  was  led  from  her  lodge,  unknowing 
the  test,  and  ran  gayly  to  her  Indian  brother's 
side,  and  looked  curiously  at  the  little  white 
group  in  the  centre  of  the  watchful  throng  of 
red  men.  Her  eyes  glanced  smilingly  at  her 
Indian  friends,  till  they  were  fastened  as  if 
by  a  magnet  on  the  white  woman's  face,  and 
there  they  hung,  fascinated,  open-mouthed, 
spellbound,  as  though  they  could  never  drink 
their  fill.  The  woman  stood,  arms  half  ex 
tended,  burning  eyes  unquenched  by  their 
own  tears,  lips  dumbly  moving.  Fear,  won 
der,  longing,  doubt  swept  over  the  girl's 
face,  till  all  thought  was  swallowed  up  in  a 
light  unspeakable,  and  her  tongue  babbled 
"Ma-ma."  She  tottered,  but  Mrs.  Lytte 
leaped  at  her  and  locked  her  fast  with  con 
vulsive  cries  and  sobs. 

The  chief's  rigid  face  was  that  of  a  bronze 
177 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

man.  All  listened  for  his  lips  to  speak.  But 
it  seemed  as  if  the  jaws  were  locked.  And 
when  the  voice  came  his  followers  scarcely 
knew  its  hollow  accents. 

"The  Great  Spirit  has  spoken,  and  who  are 
his  red  children  that  they  should  refuse  to 
listen."  Then  he  covered  his  face  with  a  cor 
ner  of  his  deer-skin  robe  and  passed  swiftly 
from  their  midst,  this  Indian  Agamemnon, 
who  would  not  reveal  his  own  agony  of  spirit. 

Eleanor  Lytte  never  saw  her  Indian  brother 
again,  but  costly  presents  each  year  proved 
his  indelible  memory  till  his  death. 


A    HOME-RUN    IN     INDIANA 
A  Tale  of  the  Early  Indian   Days 

|HE  men  of  the  block-house  fort 
had  eaten  breakfast  by  candle 
light  for  an  early  start  to  their 
work  upon  the  various  clearings. 
The  long,  rough  table  would  be  reset  later  for 
the  women  and  children.  They  were  a  band 
of  settlers  in  the  wilderness,  who  had  arrived 
from  Virginia  the  preceding  autumn  barely 
in  time  to  build  one  house  for  the  shelter  of 
all.  Before  another  summer  should  be  over 
each  family  would  possess  a  dwelling  of  its 
own  and  the  beginning  of  a  farm  great  with 
the  promise  of  future  orchards  and  fields  of 
grain. 

The  severity  of  the  winter  had  departed. 
March  was  bringing  many  days  of  brightness, 
with  songs  from  the  earlier  birds  of  spring. 
179 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

It  was  now  the  hour  of  dawn,  and  far  to  the 
east,  above  where  rolled  the  broad  Ohio,  the 
sky  was  rosy  with  the  sun's  bright  greeting. 
Across  the  Big  Blue  River  to  the  west  were 
clouds  of  morning  mist,  which  made  the 
higher  hills  beyond  appear  like  wooded  isl 
ands  in  a  rolling  sea. 

John  Martin  stood  near  the  block-house, 
with  his  long  rifle  on  his  arm  and  his  axe  in 
hand,  ready  to  start  for  the  home  clearing.  He 
was  twenty-five  years  old,  of  medium  height 
and  well  formed.  There  was  not  his  equal 
in  the  settlement  for  activity  and  strength. 

By  his  side  stood  his  wife,  a  girlish-looking 
woman  yet  in  her  "teens,"  with  her  hands 
clasped  upon  his  shoulder.  Her  eyes  were 
looking  earnestly  into  his,  and  there  was 
anxiety  in  her  voice  as  she  said : 

"I  hope,  John,  you  and  Stephen  are  not 
growing  careless  about  watching  because  no 
Indians  have  been  seen  for  many  weeks. 
You  know  one  can  never  tell  when  they  may 
come,  'like  a  thief  in  the  night.'  Do  you 
keep  one  on  guard  while  the  other  works,  as 
you  used  to  do?" 

1 80 


A   HOME-RUN   IN   INDIANA 

"Well,  no,  we  haven't  lately,  to  tell  the 
truth,  Mary,"  he  replied;  "it  seems  like  such 
a  waste  of  time  when  there's  so  much  to  do. 
We've  cut  away  the  undergrowth  for  a  good 
distance  round  to  give  us  a  clear  view,  and 
we  both  work  and  watch  the  best  we  can. 
I've  heard  the  Indians  were  entirely  out  of 
powder  and  lead  this  spring,  and  they  will 
not  probably  go  on  the  war-path  till  they 
get  some.  Don't  you  worry,  dear;  I  don't 
believe  there's  any  danger  now.  Come  on, 
Stephen,"  he  called,  "let's  be  off;  it's  been 
daylight  half  an  hour ;  you  can  'most  see  the 
sun." 

The  youth  addressed  was  standing  with 
their  mother,  a  few  steps  apart,  and  they 
had  been  conversing  in  low  tones.  He  was 
only  fifteen,  her  "baby,"  and  the  subject  of 
her  special  tenderness  and  care;  for  he  was 
the  only  one  of  her  children  who  had  no 
memory  of  his  father,  a  brave  soldier  of  the 
Revolution,  who  had  come  home  from  York- 
town  only  to  die  within  a  year. 

Though  a  gray-haired  woman  of  more  than 
fifty  years,  she  was  still  vigorous,  and  there 
181 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

was  rich  color  in  her  cheeks.  She  had  thrown 
a  shawl  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  and 
come  out  as  usual  "to  see  the  boys  off." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  take  your  rifle  with 
you,  son  ?"  she  asked  of  Stephen,  as  he  turned 
to  go. 

"No,  mother;  I  think  not  to-day.  The 
fact  is,  I've  carried  the  gun  back  and  forth 
all  winter  and  never  had  the  least  use  for  it, 
and  it's  powerful  heavy,  especially  at  night 
after  a  hard  day's  work.  I  reckon  I'm  get 
ting  lazy,"  he  added,  with  an  attempt  to 
smile. 

The  mother  sighed,  knowing  well  that 
"laziness"  in  this  case  meant  weariness; 
that  the  lad  was  doing  more  than  he  ought, 
from  a  boy's  ambition  to  do  a  man's 
work. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  gently;  "perhaps  it's 
just  as  well,  though  I've  half  a  notion  to  go 
along  and  stand  guard  myself.  Take  good 
care  of  this  boy,"  she  said  to  John.  "I'm 
afraid  he's  overworking;  you're  both  so  am 
bitious,  just  like  your  father." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  John  replied,  cheerily,  "  but 
182 


A   HOME-RUN   IN   INDIANA 

it's  hard  to  hold  him  back;  you  see  he  takes 
after  father  and  mother  both." 

At  this  they  all  laughed,  and  the  brothers 
walked  away,  followed  by  the  gaze  of  loving 
eyes  till  their  forms  had  disappeared  among 
the  trees. 

At  the  home  clearing  the  morning  passed 
as  usual,  with  the  work  of  felling  trees  and 
piling  brush.  At  noon  the  two  ate  their 
" dinner"  of  cold  johnny-cake  and  dried  ven 
ison  by  the  smouldering  coals  of  a  brush- 
heap,  whereon  they  also  boiled  a  pot  of 
water  and  made  "corn  coffee." 

"We  can  always  work  better,"  John  had 
said,  "for  a  little  something  hot";  and  they 
sweetened  the  "coffee"  with  maple -sugar 
made  by  mother  and  Mary  from  the  sap  of 
trees  growing  near  the  fort. 

After  half  an  hour's  rest  they  cut  down  a 
tall  tree,  which  fell  northward,  as  Stephen 
said,  "pointing  to  the  fort."  They  had 
trimmed  away  the  limbs,  and  Stephen  was 
"topping"  the  tree — that  is,  cutting  off  the 
small  end  of  the  trunk  to  go  with  the  brush 
for  burning.  John  was  measuring  off  the 
183 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

"cuts,"  when  a  large  buck  sprang  into  the 
clearing  from  the  south,  and  paused,  with 
head  erect,  looking  backward. 

To  John  this  seemed  a  joyful  opportunity. 
The  men  of  the  settlement  had  taken  little 
time  for  hunting  during  recent  weeks,  and 
meat  was  getting  scarce.  Very  quietly,  but 
quickly,  he  crept  along  the  log  to  where  his 
rifle  stood  leaning  against  the  stump,  while 
Stephen  had  as  quickly  dropped  from  sight 
behind  the  brush.  The  left  shoulder  of  the 
deer  was  fairly  presented  at  a  distance  of 
only  fifty  yards,  and  almost  instantly  he 
gave  a  bound  forward  and  fell  dead,  shot 
through  the  heart. 

Laying  down  the  weapon,  John  started  to 
run  to  the  buck,  passing  near  Stephen  and 
saying,  "Load  the  gun,  and  I'll — "  But  the 
look  and  attitude  of  his  brother  made  him 
pause.  He  was  gazing  intently,  not  towards 
the  deer,  but  in  the  direction  from  which  it 
had  come.  John  turned  and  beheld  a  start 
ling  sight.  Stealthily  approaching  along  a 
little  ravine,  not  far  away,  were  a  dozen  or 
more  savages  in  war-paint  and  feathers. 
184 


A   HOME-RUN   IN   INDIANA 

John  was  a  man  of  quick  decision  and  reso 
lute  action.  All  the  meaning  of  the  situation 
flashed  upon  his  mind.  They  were  but  two, 
and  outnumbered  six  or  eight  to  one;  they 
had  but  one  gun,  that  empty,  fifty  feet  dis 
tant  towards  the  foe.  But  the  way  was  open 
to  the  fort,  across  the  clearing  and  through 
the  woods.  Had  he  been  alone,  he  would 
have  sprung  to  the  path  in  a  moment  and 
gained  a  good  start  on  the  savages.  But 
Stephen  had  the  unfortunate  habit  of  hesi 
tating  in  emergencies.  Whenever  startled  or 
surprised  he  seemed  powerless  to  act,  and 
would  stand  as  one  dazed.  John  had  to  go 
to  him,  therefore,  take  him  by  the  shoulders, 
turn  him  about,  and  say,  "Run  to  the 
fort!"  pushing  with  the  word  to  arouse 
him.  Once  started,  however,  he  ran  like  a 
frightened  doe — so  hard,  indeed,  that  with 
out  the  restraint  and  guidance  of  his  brother 
he  would  have  been  exhausted  early  in  the 
race. 

The  Indians,  on  finding  their  approach  dis 
covered,  sprang  nimbly  to  the  pursuit,  but 
they  had  at  first  to  run  uphill,  and  when 
185 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

they  came  to  the  tree  the  foremost  stopped 
to  examine  the  gun  and  pouches,  and  a  dis 
pute  arose  over  their  possession.  This  was 
quickly  settled  by  the  chief,  but  every  mo 
ment  gained  was  precious  to  the  fugitives. 

Any  company  of  men  in  danger  needs  a 
captain,  and  John  was  born  for  a  command 
er,  whether  of  two  or  fifty.  He  set  the  pace 
which  he  believed  Stephen  could  keep  to  the 
end,  and  said: 

"  Don't  look  back ;  I  will  keep  watch  on  the 
Indians  for  us  both.  We  must  not  follow 
our  usual  path  too  closely.  If  the  way  is 
clear  we  must  cut  across  wherever  we  can." 

John  had  taken  note  of  several  important 
facts.  Only  two  or  three  of  the  Indians  car 
ried  rifles,  and  they  were  not  among  the  fore 
most.  He  believed,  from  the  report  he  had 
heard,  that  the  guns  were  empty. 

The  Indian  who  had  secured  the  white 
man's  rifle  had  stopped  to  load  it,  and  was 
now  far  in  the  rear.  It  was  the  evident  pur 
pose  of  the  leaders  to  run  their  victims  down 
and  kill  them  with  tomahawk  and  knife ;  then, 
if  possible,  they  would  surprise  the  fort,  mas- 
186 


A   HOME-RUN   IN    INDIANA 

sacre  the  inmates,  and  carry  away  the  am 
munition. 

The  reason  for  their  confidence  soon  be 
came  apparent.  Stephen,  notwithstanding 
his  brother's  advice,  could  not  avoid  now 
and  then  turning  his  head  for  a  backward 
glance,  and  he  it  was  who  first  recognized  in 
the  foremost  runner  a  famous  Indian  chief 
named  Bigfoot,  known  as  the  bravest  warrior 
and  swiftest  runner  of  the  Wyandotte  tribe. 
It  was  reported,  also,  that  he  had  three  broth 
ers,  nearly  equal  to  himself  in  speed,  who 
usually  went  with  him  on  his  expeditions. 

There  had  not  been  a  doubt  in  the  mind 
of  John  about  his  own  ability  to  outrun  the 
Indians.  The  question  from  the  first  had 
been  how  to  save  Stephen,  and  this  new  dis 
covery  made  the  situation  desperate.  The 
boy  could  run  very  swiftly  for  a  short  dis 
tance,  but  he  lacked  the  endurance  of  a  fully 
developed  man.  In  spite  of  his  brother's  en 
couragement  his  steps  began  to  flag.  Big- 
foot  was  easily  gaining  upon  them,  and  three 
others  were  not  far  behind  him.  Soon  he 
came  so  near  that  John  feared  he  might,  by 
187 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

a  quick  rush,  be  able  to  throw  his  tomahawk 
with  deadly  effect.     He  said  to  Stephen; 

"Jump  behind  the  big  tree  we  are  coming 
near,  but  keep  on  running." 

Dropping  behind  a  pace  or  two,  he  followed 
Stephen's  movement  in  line  with  the  tree. 
The  Indian,  fearing  an  assault,  halted  for  a 
moment,  and  by  this  they  gained  several 
rods.  The  ruse  was  repeated  two  or  three 
times,  and  they  were  now  half-way  to  the 
fort. 

Here  Stephen  seemed  to  be  wellnigh  ex 
hausted  and  ready  to  despair.  He  said  to 
John: 

"Run  ahead  and  save  yourself.  I  must 
give  up!" 

But  the  other  replied: 

"  I'll  not  leave  you.  Don't  give  up.  Keep 
up  your  heart  and  we'll  beat  them  yet." 

Bigfoot,  feeling  sure  of  his  prey,  had  slack 
ened  his  pace  for  the  others  to  overtake 
him,  and  the  four  together  were  coming  on 
rapidly.  John  now  determined  on  the  only 
plan  which  might  possibly  save  them  both. 
He  said  to  Stephen: 

188 


A   HOME-RUN    IN   INDIANA 

"We  must  separate.  As  we  pass  the  big 
hickory,  do  you  bear  to  the  right  while  I  go 
to  the  left.  Bigfoot  will  follow  me,  and  you 
can  outrun  the  others.  When  you  strike  the 
clearing,  yell  to  warn  the  women.  I'll  do  the 
same.  Go  it,  now,  and  do  your  best!" 

This  plan  gave  the  boy  new  hope,  for  Big- 
foot  had  been  his  especial  terror.  As  he 
thought,  too,  of  his  mother  and  sisters,  and 
their  danger,  he  sprang  forward  from  the  big 
hickory  and  ran  bravely. 

The  savages  paused  a  moment,  and  then, 
as  John  had  foretold,  the  big  Indian  took  the 
left  course,  followed  by  the  swiftest  of  the 
others. 

Then  began  the  real  test  between  the  two 
runners,  red  and  white,  neither  of  whom  had 
ever  before  found  his  match.  For  a  time 
John  turned  his  head  frequently,  keeping 
watch  upon  his  pursuers,  and  he  soon  learned 
that  the  distance  between  them,  little  by 
little,  was  shortening.  The  Indian  was  gain 
ing  because  he  did  not  look  back;  his  eye 
was  steadily  on  the  white  man.  John  Mar 
tin  thought: 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

"  I  must  not  turn  my  head,  but  look  stead 
ily  forward,  and  trust  my  ears  to  measure 
the  space  between  us.  If  I  find  that  he 
is  near  ing  me,  I  will  stop  and  fight;  my 
little  knife  against  his  long  one  and  the 
hatchet." 

But  the  space  did  not  grow  less,  and  to 
the  Indian,  who  had  expected  an  easy  vic 
tory,  this  was  maddening.  John  heard  him 
muttering  curses  in  his  own  language,  and 
they  sounded  like  music.  Then  he  called, 
in  broken  English : 

"White  man,  stop,  talk;  me  no  kill." 

His  only  purpose  was  to  secure  a  moment's 
pause;  but  to  all  appearance  the  other  did 
not  hear  him.  The  Indian  strained  ahead  in 
his  rage,  but  he  could  not  gain.  The  long, 
quick  steps  of  the  white  man  had  the  steady 
movement  of  an  eagle's  wing.  John  did  not 
turn  his  head  till  he  had  leaped  the  fence  and 
given  the  promised  yell.  Almost  on  the  in 
stant  he  heard  the  whiz  of  a  bullet  and  the 
crack  of  Mary's  rifle.  The  ball  grazed  a 
tree  behind  which  the  Indian  had  suddenly 
skulked,  dodging  a  shot  truly  aimed.  Then, 
190 


A   HOME-RUN   IN   INDIANA 

with  a  cry  of  baffled  rage,  he  sprang  into  the 
forest  and  was  seen  no  more. 

When  Stephen  left  his  brother's  side  he 
felt  that  he  was  put  upon  his  mettle  as  never 
in  his  life  before.  He  had  recovered  his 
"second  wind,"  the  swiftest  of  the  Indians 
had  gone  the  other  way,  and  he  had  great 
hope  that  he  could  win  the  race.  He  must 
win,  for  if  John  should  fail,  who  but  himself 
could  warn  the  people  of  the  fort.  Left  alone, 
he  suddenly  became  cool,  calculating,  and 
self-reliant.  Before  him  was  a  bit  of  thicket. 
He  turned  suddenly  behind  this,  as  though 
seeking  to  hide  along  a  ravine  which  bore 
away  to  the  right,  and  as  quickly  again 
resumed  his  course.  The  Indians  were  de 
ceived,  and  turned,  as  they  supposed,  to  cut 
him  off,  and  by  this  he  gained  considerably. 
Then,  in  plain  sight,  he  took  a  curved  path, 
knowing  that  across  the  shorter  way  were 
many  trailing  vines  and  low  shrubs.  In  these 
the  foremost  savage  became  entangled  and 
fell  behind.  And  now  the  lad  had  only  to 
make  a  supreme  effort — the  clearing  was  in 
sight;  he  heard  his  brother's  voice  and  the 
13  191 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

report  of  his  sister's  rifle.  All  was  well,  and 
he  would  have  gone  unscathed,  but  in  leap 
ing  the  fence  he  tripped  and  fell  headlong. 
As  he  rose  and  started  forward,  the  foremost 
Indian  threw  a  tomahawk,  the  blade  of 
which  cut  his  shoulder,  while  the  handle 
struck  his  head,  stunning  him,  and  he  fell 
again. 

The  savage,  eager  to  secure  a  scalp  and 
recover  his  weapon,  sprang  over  the  fence, 
unaware  of  the  risk  he  was  taking,  for  by  this 
time  John  had  given  warning  of  his  brother's 
approach,  and  the  brave  mother  was  on  the 
watch.  The  Indian's  feet  had  but  touched 
the  open  ground  when  she  drew  a  bead  upon 
him,  and  as  he  paused  to  draw  his  scalping- 
knife  the  rifle  sent  its  messenger  into  his 
breast.  He  fell  at  Stephen's  feet,  mortally 
wounded,  and  died  in  a  few  moments. 

The  mother  began  reloading  her  piece. 
"We  may  need  another  bullet,"  she  said,  as 
she  rammed  one  "home."  "Help  the  boy 
in,  and  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  woods." 

But  no  other  foe  appeared,  and  Stephen, 
whose  wounds,  though  bleeding  and  painful, 
192 


A   HOME-RUN   IN   INDIANA 

were  not  dangerous,  soon  was  resting  on  a 
couch  before  the  fire. 

Notwithstanding  the  excitement  he  had 
passed  through,  he  immediately  fell  asleep 
from  utter  exhaustion.  When  at  sunset  he 
awoke  and  saw  his  mother  by  his  side,  he 
placed  a  hand  in  hers,  and  there  was  a  world 
of  love  and  admiration  in  his  eyes. 

In  the  mean  time  the  sound  of  guns  had 
brought  the  men  quickly  to  the  fort.  John, 
whose  blood  was  hot,  wished  to  organize  a 
party  at  once  and  pursue  the  Indians,  but 
the  older  and  more  prudent  objected.  The 
mother  said:  " No,  that  is  just  what  they  will 
expect  you  to  do.  They  will  lead  you  a  long 
and  useless  chase,  or  else  they  will  wait  for 
you  in  ambush.  We  have  no  lives  to  spare, 
and  nothing  to  avenge.  We're  Christians 
and  not  savages,  and  we've  every  reason  to 
night  to  be  thankful  we're  alive.  I  want  you 
to  bury  the  one  I  shot  to  save  my  boy,  his 
scalp  on  his  head  and  his  weapons  with 
him.  Bury  him  in  a  corner  of  the  clear 
ing,  and  put  up  a  bit  of  slab  to  mark  the 
spot." 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Some  frowned  at  this,  but  it  was  done  as 
she  had  said. 

Before  long  the  story  of  this  burial  in  some 
way  reached  the  savages  and  was  told  in 
many  wigwams. 

Years  afterwards  an  aged  squaw  came  to 
the  fort  and  asked  in  broken  English  to  be 
shown  the  Indian's  grave,  and  when  she  saw 
it  she  bowed  herself  upon  it  and  wept. 


A    DOUBLE    AMBUSH 
A  Girl's  Adventure  with   the  Seminoles 

|E  lived  in  Florida — this  is  the  story 
told  by  Mrs.  Walters — through  the 
second  Seminole  War,  which  be 
gan  in  1835,  so  that  I  grew  up  with 
the  names  of  the  great  hostile  chiefs,  Osceola, 
Alligator,  Wild  Cat,  and  Tiger  Tail,  as  a  part 
of  my  childhood. 

A  sense  of  peril  was  always  present  with 
us.  I  remember  the  feelings  with  which  we 
heard  of  the  slaughter  of  Lieutenant  Bade 
and  his  command.  The  tragedy  took  place 
in  open  battle,  yet  it  seemed  dreadful  that 
so  many  brave  men  should  be  shot  down  in 
the  dark  woods,  with  the  painted  savages 
yelling  around  them. 

In  the  spring  when  I  was  thirteen  and  my 
brother  Arthur  fifteen  the  war  was  at  its 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

worst,  and  my  father  talked  strongly  of  re 
moving  to  a  greater  distance  from  the  danger. 

Among  our  few  slaves,  consisting  only  of 
two  black  families,  was  a  half -idiotic  young 
negro  named  Jason,  who  had  the  privilege 
of  wandering  pretty  much  as  he  pleased.  He 
would  often  remain  all  day  in  the  forest, 
either  lying  asleep  or  mocking  the  gobble  of 
the  wild  turkeys. 

One  day  he  returned  with  an  appearance 
which  startled  us.  His  woolly  head  had 
been  completely  shaved,  and  his  black  face 
dyed  to  a  bright  scarlet.  He  had,  however, 
received  no  real  hurt,  and  seemed  not  in  the 
least  terrified  by  the  ordeal  through  which  he 
must  have  passed. 

We  gathered  from  his  broken  sentences 
that  he  had  fallen  in  with  Indians ;  and  it  was 
plain  that  they  had  been  in  some  measure 
true  to  the  proverbial  respect  of  their  people 
for  idiots.  An  ordinary  person  they  would 
have  sacrificed  without  mercy;  but  when 
Jason  stared  aimlessly  at  the  tree-tops,  or 
gobbled  like  a  turkey,  they  simply  set  their 
mark  upon  him  and  let  him  go. 
196 


A    DOUBLE    AMBUSH 

The  incident  showed  that  our  danger  was 
more  immediate  than  had  been  supposed; 
but  there  was  fortunately  a  squad  of  United 
States  cavalry  picketed  within  a  few  miles  of 
us,  and  my  father  lost  no  time  in  noti 
fying  the  officer  in  command  of  what  had 
occurred.  The  soldiers,  however,  could  find 
nothing  of  the  enemy,  and  in  the  mean  time 
we  passed  a  couple  of  days  in  very  anx 
ious  suspense.  The  movements  of  Indian 
warriors  are  erratic,  and  to  white  men  unac 
countable. 

My  parents  began  to  regain  confidence,  be 
lieving  that  the  Seminoles  were  gone  from 
the  neighborhood,  as  they  doubtless  were  for 
the  time.  Father  said  they  were  probably 
scouts,  and  there  was  no  telling  how  they 
might  appear  next.  He  hoped,  however, 
that  the  presence  of  the  soldiers  had  led 
them  to  abandon  any  design  they  might  have 
entertained  of  attacking  us. 

On  the  third  day  after  Jason's  adventure 

we  were  feeling  much  relieved.     The  negro 

men  were  at  work  in  the  fields,  and  father 

had  gone  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the 

197 


ADVENTURES  WITH    INDIANS 

house.     Mother,  Arthur,  and  myself,  with  the 
female  servants,  were  within-doors. 

Presently,  not  far  off,  we  heard  the  gobble 
of  a  wild  turkey,  or  what  seemed  such,  al 
though,  as  turkeys  were  not  in  the  habit  of 
approaching  so  near  the  house,  we  imagined 
Jason  to  be  at  his  old,  silly  pastime  again, 
imitating  the  call  which  he  could  counterfeit 
so  well. 

The  notes  were  continued  with  great  reg 
ularity  at  intervals  of  a  minute  or  two,  and 
they  were  so  natural  that  Arthur  would  have 
been  all  on  fire  to  seize  his  rifle  and  hurry  in 
quest  of  game  had  he  not  remembered  how 
often  he  had  been  led  upon  a  fruitless  chase 
by  the  vocal  powers  of  the  poor  idiot. 

"We  all  excel  in  something,"  said  my 
mother,  "and  Jason  was  made  to  call  tur 
keys.  But  I  do  wish  he  would  be  quiet;  it 
makes  me  nervous  to  hear  him." 

"Jason?"  said  a  little  negro  girl  who  just 
then  came  in  from  the  rear  of  the  premises; 
"why,  missus,  Jason  done  gone  asleep  in  de 
shade  at  de  back  ob  de  wash-house.  I  done 
seen  him  dis  minute." 
198 


A    DOUBLE    AMBUSH 

Arthur  hastened  out-doors,  looked  behind 
the  wash-house,  and,  having  assured  himself 
that  the  black  boy  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  gobbling,  returned  quickly  for  his  rifle. 

"It  is  a  real  turkey,"  he  said,  ''and  he's 
somewhere  in  the  hollow."  The  hollow  was 
made  by  a  depression  of  the  ground  about 
fifty  rods  from  the  house-front  and  running 
parallel  with  it.  Upon  its  farther  side  was  a 
decayed  stump,  some  four  or  five  feet  high, 
standing  below  the  sloping  bank,  and  with 
its  top  just  visible  from  the  house.  Of  this 
stump  the  portion  next  to  the  slope  had  so 
fallen  away  as  to  leave  a  large  cavity  capable 
of  containing  a  man.  The  gobble  indicated 
the  turkey's  whereabouts  pretty  definitely. 

"He's  somewhere  near  that  stump,"  said 
Arthur;  "perhaps  inside  of  it,  sitting  up 
on  the  rotten  wood  towards  the  top.  I'm 
afraid  he'll  get  high  enough  to  see  me.  But 
I'll  make  a  circuit,  and  creep  around  where 
the  ground  is  lower." 

He  went  out  at  the  back  door,  so  as  to 
make  sure  of  not  being  seen.  The  land  on 
our  right,  a  few  rods  from  the  house,  was  very 
199 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

low,  the  depression  stretching  off  in  crescent 
shape  until  it  reached  the  gully,  which  crossed 
it  at  fair  rifle-shot  distance  from  the  stump. 

Arthur,  young  as  he  was,  had  already  be 
come  an  excellent  marksman,  having  for  two 
years  possessed  a  rifle  of  his  own,  which  fa 
ther  had  bought  him,  and  which  was  almost 
always  in  his  hands.  We  had  no  doubt  that, 
with  anything  like  an  ordinary  chance,  he 
would  put  a  ball  through  the  turkey's  head 
and  return  in  triumph. 

But  somehow,  after  he  went  out,  a  sudden 
thought  seemed  to  strike  mother.  Wasn't 
it  strange  that  a  turkey  should  come  so  far 
out  of  the  woods  and  keep  up  such  a  gobbling 
in  the  hollow?  No,  not  strange,  perhaps — 
not  very  unusual;  and  she  wondered  at  her 
own  uneasiness.  But  her  nerves  had  been 
shaken  by  poor  Jason's  incident. 

The  house  had  a  half -story  in  front,  with 
two  small  windows  above  the  ground  rooms, 
and  mother's  feelings  impelled  her  to  run  up 
there  for  a  better  view.  She  wished  to  see 
where  father  was,  and  perhaps  might  discov 
er  something  of  the  wild  turkey. 
200 


A   DOUBLE   AMBUSH 

I  was  close  at  her  side.  We  saw  father 
with  his  rifle  away  off  across  the  fields,  and 
the  negroes  at  a  distance  from  him  engaged 
in  their  work.  The  stump,  too,  was  visible 
nearly  to  its  foot,  and  at  intervals  we  caught 
sight  of  Arthur  carefully  working  his  way 
in  a  half-circuit  towards  the  gully. 

Father  had  evidently  heard  the  turkey, 
and  was  warily  approaching  the  spot  where 
it  seemed  to  be.  His  half -stooping  posture 
showed  that  he  feared  the  bird  might  get 
upon  the  stump  and  see  him. 

Suddenly  mother  started,  and  her  face  had 
a  look  of  ghastly  terror.  Something  which 
certainly  was  no  turkey  rose  a  little  above 
the  stump,  between  its  shattered  rim  and  the 
grass  of  the  bank.  I  saw  it,  too,  and  my 
blood  ran  cold. 

It  was  something  that  greatly  resembled 
the  head  of  an  Indian.  We  felt  that  the  face 
must  be  peering  through  the  grass  towards 
my  father,  while  we  saw  the  black,  gleaming 
hair  behind. 

Without  doubt  it  was  a  Seminole  warrior 
in  ambush,  watching  father's  approach. 

201 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Mother  gave  an  agonized  cry.  "What 
shall  I  do? — oh!  what  shall  I  do?"  she  ex 
claimed. 

Would  not  any  signal  or  outcry  she  could 
make  be  misunderstood  at  such  a  distance, 
and  only  hasten  the  catastrophe,  since  father 
was  still  thirty  rods  beyond  the  Indian  and 
eighty  from  the  house?  Then  where  was 
Arthur,  who  had  now  disappeared?  And 
should  she  by  a  sudden  alarm  cause  him  to 
show  himself,  might  not  the  Seminole  rise  up 
and  shoot  him  on  the  spot?  She  was  dizzy 
with  her  sense  of  the  dreadful  situation. 

But  in  a  moment  I  called  out  to  her, 
"There's  Arthur,  mother!— there's  Arthur!" 
for  I  saw  him  among  the  rank  grass,  lying 
flat  upon  the  ground,  within  good  rifle-shot 
of  the  stump,  which  he  seemed  to  be  watch 
ing  intently. 

Once  again  the  Indian's  head  was  shown 
slightly,  and  we  got  an  instant's  glimpse  of 
Arthur's  rifle.  But  the  black  hair  disap 
peared,  and  the  weapon  was  lowered. 

Father  was  now  so  near  the  scene  of  danger 
that  we  had  no  alternative  but  to  watch. 
202 


A   DOUBLE    AMBUSH 

Terrible  as  was  her  anxiety,  mother  now  felt 
that  Arthur  had  discovered  what  kind  of 
game  the  old  stump  contained.  She  knew 
that  the  Indian  could  not  fire  at  her  father 
without  exposing  his  own  head,  and  that  the 
moment  it  appeared  it  would  be  covered  by 
her  brave  boy's  rifle. 

How  our  hearts  beat  for  the  few  moments 
that  intervened !  Another  gobble  came  from 
the  stump.  Father  was  working  his  way 
steadily  towards  it  in  anticipation  of  a  prize, 
and  Arthur  lay  still  as  death  in  the  grass. 

All  at  once  we  saw  the  sunlight  glance  upon 
a  mass  of  long,  raven  hair  that  rose  slowly 
above  the  gnarled  wood  which  had  hidden  it. 
Father  was  within  six  rods  of  the  spot.  It 
was  a  dreadful  moment. 

Our  eyes  turned  to  Arthur.  The  grass  in 
front  of  the  slight  knoll  where  he  lay  was  not 
high  enough  to  interfere  with  his  aim  as  his 
elbow  rested  on  the  ground.  We  could  see 
him  drop  his  young  face  against  the  breech 
of  his  gun.  The  barrel  gleamed  for  a  single 
instant,  a  puff  of  smoke  streamed  from  the 
muzzle,  and  he  leaped  to  his  feet. 
203 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

But  there  was  a  still  more  sudden  leap  from 
the  old  stump,  for  an  Indian,  with  flying  hair, 
and  with  his  rifle  still  clutched  in  his  hand, 
sprang  up  and  fell  dead  against  the  slope 
which  had  concealed  him  from  father's  view. 

The  reunion  which  followed,  when  we  all 
ran  into  one  another's  arms,  joyful,  yet 
thrilled  with  consternation,  I  will  not  dwell 
upon. 

We  found  the  dead  enemy  to  be  a  tall  young 
warrior,  hideously  painted,  and  having  in  his 
belt  a  hatchet  and  a  knife. 

He  had,  no  doubt,  entered  the  gully  from 
the  swamp,  and  seeing  father  at  a  distance, 
had  attempted  to  decoy  him  within  gun-shot 
by  imitating  a  wild  turkey. 

The  occasion  proved  to  be  the  only  one  on 
which  the  Seminole  War  was  brought  home 
to  us,  as  the  successes  of  the  United  States 
troops  afterwards  kept  the  Indians  at  a  dis 
tance  from  our  neighborhood. 


THE    WILL    OF    GOLDEN     HORN 

A   'Tale  of  the  Montagnais  in   Canada 

|HE  hearts  of  my  people  are  turn 
ed  white ;  their  blood  is  like  the 
water  of  the  lake.     But  my  heart 
is  still  red,  my  knife  is  still  sharp. 
Golden  Horn  will — " 

What  Golden  Horn  would  do  was  lost  in 
a  burst  of  emotion.  As  he  walked  rapidly 
up  the  beach  of  Lake  St.  John,  some  two 
hundred  miles  north  of  Quebec,  trying  to  es 
cape  from  his  own  thoughts,  he  beat  his 
breast  with  his  fists  and  struck  out  wildly 
at  the  air.  Though  he  was  an  Indian  chief, 
tears  of  rage  and  helplessness  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  To  make  matters  worse,  his  right 
eye  was  bruised  and  swollen.  It  was  unde 
niably  a  black  eye. 

The  blue  waters  of  the  lake  might  have 
205 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

smiled  to  see  this  Indian  chief  wiping  tears 
from  his  black  eye.  But  they  were  more 
considerate,  for  Golden  Horn  was  such  a 
little  chief.  He  was  about  five  feet  and  a 
half  high,  and  only  a  little  more  than  fif 
teen  years  old.  He  had  the  dark  skin  and 
straight,  black  hair  of  the  older  Golden 
Horn,  his  father,  and  of  the  still  older  Gold 
en  Horn,  his  grandfather;  but  beyond  this 
there  was  little  of  the  Indian  in  his  appear 
ance.  He  wore  a  straw  hat  and  a  blue  shirt, 
his  trousers  were  rolled  up  to  his  knees,  his 
feet  were  bare,  and  in  civilized  life  his  name 
was  Tom  Simpson.  Nevertheless,  he  was 
Golden  Horn,  hereditary  chief  of  the  south 
ern  branch  of  the  Montagnais. 

No  one  who  saw  his  flashing  eyes  and 
his  hand  upon  his  knife -hilt  could  have 
doubted  his  direct  descent  from  the  great 
Golden  Horn,  the  hero  of  the  tribe.  It  was 
not  a  scalping-knife  that  he  carried — only 
a  knife  used  for  hunting  and  domestic  pur 
poses.  Young  Golden  Horn  had  never  seen 
a  scalp  taken,  for  his  people  had  lived  quietly 
on  reservations  for  many  years.  But  he  was 
206 


THE   WILL  OF   GOLDEN   HORN 

full  of  the  traditions  of  his  people.  Some  of 
these  traditions,  wonderful  tales  of  the  daring 
of  the  great  Golden  Horn,  his  grandfather, 
had  been  told  him  by  the  old  men.  Others, 
less  trustworthy,  he  had  imbibed  from  Ind 
ian  tales  bought  in  neighboring  Roberval; 
for  young  Golden  Horn  could  read.  In  ordi 
nary  times  he  was  content  to  be  plain  Tom 
Simpson,  and  to  hunt  and  fish  and  paddle 
canoes  with  the  rest ;  but  now  that  his  blood 
was  up,  now  that  he  had  been  abused  and 
beaten  and  scorned,  now  let  the  tempest  roar 
and  the  thunder  crash;  for  he  was  Golden 
Horn,  hereditary  chief  of  his  tribe,  and  his 
knife  was  sharp. 

He  had  not  yet  been  allowed  to  enjoy  the 
glory  of  chieftainship,  because  he  was  too 
young.  His  uncle,  John  Simpson,  was  made 
temporary  chief  when  young  Tom's  father 
was  found  crushed  to  death  under  a  tree  in 
the  great  Northern  forest;  and  Tom,  young 
as  he  was,  was  old  enough  to  see  that  there 
was  danger  of  his  never  coming  into  the  high 
office.  For  Uncle  John  had  made  himself 
powerful  in  the  tribe.  He  lived  in  the  only 
'4  207 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

house  on  the  reservation  by  the  lake;  all  the 
others  lived  in  tents.  This  doubt  about  his 
future  made  young  Golden  Horn's  trials  all 
the  harder  to  bear. 

The  young  chief  had  paused,  and  was  look 
ing  wistfully  at  the  miniature  waves,  his  old 
friends,  as  though  they  might  bring  him 
relief,  when  he  felt  a  hand  laid  upon  his 
shoulder.  He  turned  with  the  agility  of  a 
cat  and  seized  the  arm  of  his  elder  sister 
Victoria.  Afraid  of  his  ugly  mood,  and  half 
afraid  of  him,  she  had  followed  him  up  the 
beach. 

"Tom,  where  are  you  going?"  she  asked. 

"Let  me  alone,"  he  answered,  "and  never 
call  me  Tom  again .  My  name  is  Golden  Horn . ' ' 

As  he  spoke  he  whipped  his  knife  from  its 
sheath  and  flourished  it  in  the  air — not  as  a 
menace  to  his  sister,  but  to  show  that  he  was 
a  real  Indian  chief. 

"Tom!"  his  sister  exclaimed,  "give  me 
that  knife.  You  are  too  angry  to  carry  a 
knife.  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  it?" 

She  seized  the  hand  that  held  the  knife, 
but  he  wrenched  it  away. 
208 


THE   WILL  OF   GOLDEN   HORN 

"Angry?"  he  cried.  "Why  should  I  not 
be  angry?  Did  they  not  abuse  me?  What 
had  I  done  to  be  treated  so?  Was  it  any 
thing  to  play  a  harmless  little  trick  upon  old 
Peter  Sulphur  that  Uncle  John  should  throw 
me  out  of  the  house  and  tell  me  to  go  play 
with  the  children — that  I  was  not  fit  to  call 
myself  a  man  ?  And  how  did  the  boys  treat 
me  ?  They  were  only  too  glad  to  see  me  de 
graded,  and  they  picked  a  quarrel  with  me, 
and  three  of  them  fought  me.  Look  at  my 
eye.  They  would  have  treated  me  worse  if 
I  had  not  shown  them  my  knife." 

"Oh,  Tom!" 

"  I  did ;  and  they  should  have  felt  it,  too, 
if  they  had  not  kept  off.  But  I  am  not  go 
ing  to  cut  anybody,  Vic.  No,  indeed;  I  had 
not  thought  of  that.  All  I  want  is  to  go 
away.  And  I  am  going  away,  Vic.  I  am  going 
away,  and  John  Simpson  shall  never  see  me 
again  till  I  come  back  to  show  him  that  I  am 
Golden  Horn,  chief  of  the  Montagnais.  I 
want  you  to  get  father's  rifle  out  of  the  house, 
and  bring  it  to  me,  Vic;  and  some  powder 
and  balls  and  caps." 

209 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

The  Indian  girl  looked  at  her  brother  in 
astonishment.  She  had  seen  him  angry  be 
fore,  but  she  had  never  seen  him  look  half 
as  manly  and  grand.  She  made  a  move  as 
though  she  would  take  him  in  her  arms,  for 
she  was  a  sister  like  other  sisters,  though 
an  Indian;  but  Golden  Horn  drew  back. 
He  was  fond  of  his  sister,  but  as  chief  of  a 
tribe  of  nearly  three  hundred  souls  it  would 
not  be  becoming  in  him  to  give  way  to  his 
feelings. 

"  Nothing  else,  Tom  ?"  she  asked,  her  hands 
still  stretched  out  towards  him.  "  Sha'n't  I 
bring  you — " 

"  Nothing  else!"  he  exclaimed,  impatiently, 
stamping  his  bare  foot  upon  the  round  stones 
of  the  beach.  "  What  can  I  need  beyond  my 
knife  and  my  rifle?" 

"Something  else,  Tom,"  Victoria  replied, 
hesitatingly.  "If  I  could  only  bring  it  to 
you,  you  need  never  go  away." 

"  But  you  can't  bring  it,"  the  boy  retorted. 
"  I  know  what  you  mean.  If  you  could 
bring  me  the  golden  horn  I  could  stay  at 
home.  There' d  be  no  more  keeping  me  out 

2IO 


THE   WILL   OF  GOLDEN   HORN 

of  my  rights  then.  And  I  know  you'd  bring 
it  if  you  could,  for  you —  But  never  mind; 
go  and  get  the  rifle." 

Tom  walked  up  the  little  bluff  and  threw 
himself  upon  the  grass  to  wait  for  his  sister. 
He  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  golden 
horn  that  once  had  brought  such  luck  to  the 
tribe,  and  now  was  lost.  It  was  a  powder- 
flask  in  the  shape  of  a  horn,  and  made  of 
pure  gold.  His  grandfather,  the  old  chief, 
had  once  done  a  great  service  for  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company,  travelling  on  foot  nearly  two 
hundred  miles  by  night  and  day  to  one  of 
their  Northern  trading -posts,  and  so  had 
saved  the  garrison  there  from  massacre.  To 
requite  him  for  this  service  the  company 
had  presented  him  with  the  golden  horn,  and 
from  that  day  he  was  known  among  his  people 
as  Golden  Horn.  He  had  carried  the  horn 
as  long  as  he  lived,  and  when  he  died  it 
had  descended  to  his  son,  the  second  Golden 
Horn.  It  was  the  pride  and  wonder  of  the 
tribe,  the  emblem  of  chieftainship,  the  talis 
man  that  insured  victory  in  battle  and  kept 
away  the  dreaded  small-pox. 

211 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

Tom's  father,  the  second  Golden  Horn,  had 
carried  this  sacred  treasure  till  the  day  of 
his  death.  But  when  his  body  was  found 
pinned  down  under  a  fallen  tree,  with  his 
rifle  by  his  side,  the  golden  horn  was  gone — 
stolen  by  thieving  trappers,  some  said ;  taken 
away  by  the  Great  Spirit,  others  believed,  in 
token  of  his  displeasure,  and  to  bring  bad 
luck  to  the  poor  Montagnais.  At  any  rate, 
the  horn  was  gone,  and  Tom  was  deprived  of 
this  emblem  of  authority. 

"If  I  could  find  the  golden  horn,"  he  said 
to  himself  as  he  lay  on  the  grass — "  if  I  could 
come  back  with  that  by  my  side,  then — 
then—" 

It  was  not  an  easy  matter  for  the  girl  to 
get  the  rifle  out  of  John  Simpson's  house  un 
seen,  but  she  managed  it,  and  carried  it  to 
the  young  chief,  who  lay  on  the  grass.  He 
sprang  up  as  she  approached. 

"There  are  only  forty  caps,  Tom,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  could  get  no  more.  And 
here  are  the  powder  and  the  bullets.  You 
have  not  told  me  where  you  are  going, 
brother." 

212 


THE   WILL  OF  GOLDEN    HORN 

Young  Golden  Horn  was  more  heroic  than 
ever  with  his  father's  rifle  in  his  hands. 

"I  am  going,"  he  said,  stretching  his  arm 
northward,  "into  the  great  forest.  In  my 
canoe  I  shall  go  to  the  Lake  Mistassini,  where 
the  Great  Spirit  dwells,  and  where  you  and 
I  have  often  been.  Then  I  shall  go  on  and 
on  till  I  reach  the  sea  they  call  Hudson  Bay. 
I  shall  find  the  fort  my  grandfather  saved, 
and  say  to  the  soldiers :  '  I  am  Golden  Horn. 
My  grandfather  saved  your  fathers'  lives, 
and  they  were  thankful.  But  the  gift  they 
gave  him  has  been  stolen,  and  I,  his  grand 
son,  am  robbed  of  my  inheritance.  Come 
and  help  me.'  And  they  will  come." 

"Foolish  boy!"  his  sister  exclaimed;  "that 
fort  has  been  torn  down  these  many  years. 
There  have  been  no  soldiers  on  the  shore  of 
the  great  bay  since  I  was  born.  And  if  there 
were  any  there  they  would  not  help  you." 

But  she  might  as  well  have  talked  to  the 
wind.  The  young  chief's  blood  was  on  fire. 
If  he  could  not  find  friends,  he  would  at  least 
see  the  world,  he  said,  and  learn  many  strange 
things,  and  come  back  fit  to  govern  his  people. 
21 1 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

For  an  instant  the  dusky  brother  and  sister 
looked  each  other  in  the  face,  and  Tom  was 
gone,  to  make  his  way  in  the  world  with  a 
knife,  a  rifle,  and  a  black  eye. 

It  was  not  the  foolish  thing  for  the  young 
chief  to  go  alone  into  the  forest  that  it  would 
have  been  for  a  civilized  boy,  for  he  was  en 
tirely  at  home  in  the  woods.  His  people 
live  upon  their  reservation  by  Lake  St.  John 
in  summer,  because  it  is  close  to  the  most 
southerly  trading -post  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company;  but  when  the  early  winter  begins 
they  pack  their  tents  and  all  their  goods  and 
go  far  north  into  the  trackless  woods.  There 
they  spend  the  winter  in  hunting  and  trap 
ping,  and  when  spring  opens  they  return 
to  the  reservation  and  exchange  their  furs 
for  the  simple  luxuries  of  the  trading-post. 
Tom  had  made  this  journey  many  times,  and 
the  forest  was  like  home  to  him. 

"  If  I  only  had  more  caps!"  he  said  to  him 
self,  as  he  lay  on  the  ground  one  day  on  the 
bank  of  the  Peribonca,  stretched  out  by  the 
side  of  a  fire  that  was  cooking  two  birds 
which  he  had  killed  with  stones.  "I  have 
214 


THE   WILL  OF   GOLDEN   HORN 

plenty  of  powder  and  ball,  but  only  forty 
caps." 

He  took  up  the  rifle  and  handled  it.  It 
was  the  old-fashioned  kind,  a  muzzle-loader, 
with  the  usual  compartment  in  the  end  of  the 
butt  for  holding  caps.  This  caught  his  eye, 
and  he  hastily  pressed  the  spring,  in  the  hope 
of  rinding  more  caps.  Yes,  there  were  caps 
there,  but  only  four.  It  was  a  disappoint 
ment,  but  even  four  were  better  than  none. 
He  poured  them  out  into  the  palm  of  his 
hand  and  examined  them,  then  poured  them 
back  into  the  compartment.  Something  did 
not  sound  just  right  to  his  quick  ear.  The 
metallic  caps  falling  against  the  hard-wood 
should  make  a  ringing  sound,  but  that  was 
not  what  he  heard.  He  pressed  the  spring 
again,  and  held  the  open  compartment  to  the 
light.  There  certainly  was  something  stuff 
ed  into  the  bottom  of  the  little  cavity.  It 
looked  like  a  bit  of  folded  paper.  He  poured 
out  the  caps  again,  and  pried  out  the  paper. 
It  was  a  little  wad,  folded  several  times.  It 
was  not  paper,  but  thin,  dried  skin,  evidently 
cut  from  the  side  of  a  tobacco-bag.  He  un- 
215 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

folded  it,  and  found  a  rough  picture  drawn 
upon  it.  The  picture  had  suffered  by  the 
folding,  for  it  was  not  drawn  with  pen  or 
pencil,  but  with  a  sharp  stick  dipped  in  a 
mixture  of  gunpowder  and  water.  Tom 
knew  that  at  once,  for  he  had  often  used  the 
mixture. 

Little  Golden  Horn  looked  at  the  picture 
in  astonishment,  but  without  thinking  that 
it  concerned  him  at  all.  Still,  it  might;  for 
as  he  studied  out  the  faint  lines  he  found  a 
man  represented,  and  that  man  an  Indian. 
The  Indian  was  lying  upon  the  ground  near 
the  base  of  a  great  tree.  Another  tree  had 
fallen  across  the  man's  legs  and  pinned  him 
down.  By  the  man's  side  lay  a  rifle,  and 
near  his  head  was  a  big  stone. 

The  young  chief  began  to  tremble.  This 
was  the  scene  of  his  father's  death;  he  had 
visited  it  many  times,  and  he  knew  it  at  once. 
But  there  was  something  else  beneath  the 
stone.  It  was  much  smaller  than  the  stone, 
and  curved.  A  fold  in  the  skin  had  almost 
obliterated  it,  but  he  made  it  out.  It  was 
a  powder-horn!  The  paper  dropped  from 
216 


THE   WILL  OF  GOLDEN   HORN 

Golden  Horn's  hand  and  his  head  sank  down 
upon  his  raised  knees.  He  had  found  his 
father's  will. 

The  birds  burned  to  a  crisp  while  the  young 
chief  reasoned  it  out ;  but  when  he  raised  his 
head  it  was  all  clear  as  day.  He  saw  his 
father  lying  on  the  ground  alone,  his  legs 
crushed  by  the  fallen  tree.  Death  was  in 
evitable,  and  the  golden  horn  was  slung  over 
his  shoulder,  to  be  stolen  by  whoever  chanced 
to  find  his  body.  His  gun  would  be  recog 
nized,  and  might  be  returned  to  his  boy. 
He  buried  the  golden  horn  under  the  rock, 
and  in  the  terrible  pain  he  must  have  suf 
fered  cut  a  piece  from  his  tobacco-bag  and 
made  this  sketch.  It  was  his  only  chance  to 
save  the  sacred  horn  for  his  tribe  and  his  boy, 

"Now  I  shall  come  into  my  inheritance," 
Golden  Horn  said  to  himself.  "One  hun 
dred  and  thirty  miles  from  here  the  golden 
horn  lies  buried.  That  is  three  days'  journey. 
In  three  days  I  shall  have  the  emblem  of  my 
tribe,  and  in  six  days  more  I  shall  be  back  to 
the  reservation.  In  less  than  ten  days  they 
shall  acknowledge  me  their  chief." 
217 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

Without  thinking  further  of  his  supper, 
he  shoved  his  canoe  into  the  water  and 
continued  his  journey  northward.  All  that 
night  he  paddled,  stopping  occasionally  at  a 
portage  and  carrying  the  light  canoe  around 
a  rapid.  In  less  than  three  days  he  was  at 
the  scene  of  his  father's  accident,  almost 
afraid  to  look  for  the  rock  shown  in  the 
picture,  lest  there  might  be  some  mistake. 

But  there  were  the  standing  tree  and  the 
fallen  one,  and  there  lay  the  rock,  just  as  the 
drawing  pictured  them.  He  burrowed  under 
the  rock,  and  in  a  minute  the  golden  horn  was 
in  his  hands,  wrapped  in  a  red  handkerchief 
and  somewhat  tarnished,  for  it  had  been  bur 
ied  more  than  two  years ;  but  it  was  safe  and 
sound. 

All  through  those  three  days  Golden  Horn 
had  been  preparing  a  dramatic  scene  for 
his  appearance  with  the  trophy.  It  was  all 
thought  out — how  he  was  to  show  himself 
suddenly  upon  the  bluff  overlooking  the 
village,  wave  the  horn  above  his  head,  and 
announce  his  return.  Even  his  speech  was 
ready;  he  had  rehearsed  it  frequently. 
218 


THE   WILL  OF  GOLDEN   HORN 

"I  am  Golden  Horn!"  he  was  to  shout. 
"  Behold  the  emblem  of  my  people,  the  trophy 
of  my  fathers !  I  am  Golden  Horn,  the  son 
of  Golden  Horn,  the  son  of  Golden  Horn  the 
Great.  I  am  the  father  of  my  children,  the 
slayer  of  the  bear,  the  hunter  of  the  forest, 
the  chief  of  my  people!"  And  old  men  and 
boys  were  to  rush  up  and  embrace  him  and 
hail  him  as  their  chief. 

The  precious  relic  had  not  been  long  in  his 
possession,  however,  before  Golden  Horn  be 
gan  to  have  different  feelings  about  it.  The 
scene  became  very  vivid  to  him,  of  his  father 
lying  there  in  agony,  and  hiding  the  horn  and 
making  that  strange  will  for  his  sake.  His 
father,  he  thought,  would  not  have  him  assert 
his  rights  with  such  fuss  and  bluster  as  he 
proposed.  That  was  a  childish  way,  he  con 
cluded,  and  very  likely  it  would  not  accom 
plish  his  purpose;  it  might  only  make  his 
people  laugh  at  him.  He  lay  down  under  the 
great  oak,  with  his  feet  against  the  tree  that 
had  killed  his  father,  to  think  it  over. 

"It  is  because  I  am  not  a  man  that  they 
will  not  let  me  be  their  chief,"  was  the  con- 
219 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

elusion  he  came  to.  "Very  well;  I  will  show 
them  that  I  am  a  man.  But  I  can't  do  that 
by  waving  my  arms  and  making  fine  speeches. 
If  I  can  go  back  loaded  with  fine  furs,  and 
make  presents  to  the  head  men,  they  will  see 
that  I  am  fit  to  be  a  chief.  I  shall  spend  the 
winter  in  the  far  forest,  and  return  in  the 
spring  with  my  spoils.  Then  I  shall  be  big 
ger,  too." 

Golden  Horn  kept  this  resolution  so  faith 
fully  that  his  people  had  barely  returned 
to  the  reservation  in  early  spring  when  he 
paddled  up  to  the  shore  with  his  canoe  loaded 
with  furs.  He  had  had  the  good-fortune  to 
meet  other  hunters,  and  had  traded  some  of 
his  pelts  with  them  for  caps  and  powder. 
The  canoe  was  loaded  down  with  the  skins 
of  the  bear  and  the  moose,  the  otter,  the 
badger,  the  ermine,  the  wolf,  the  fox,  the 
lynx,  and  the  marten.  No  man  in  the  tribe 
had  as  much  to  show  for  his  winter's  work. 
Golden  Horn  himself  had  grown  several 
inches  taller,  and  instead  of  his  boyish  clothes 
he  wore  a  suit  of  furs,  all  fashioned  with  his 
own  hands. 

220 


THE   WILL  OF  GOLDEN   HORN 

The  canoe  had  hardly  touched  the  shore 
when  his  uncle,  John  Simpson,  ran  down  to 
the  beach  to  greet  him. 

"Welcome  home,  Golden  Horn!"  his  uncle 
shouted.  "  I  have  been  expecting  you.  Last 
month  you  were  sixteen,  and  at  sixteen  I 
meant  you  should  take  your  place  as  our 
chief.  You  have  come  back  well  stored." 

' '  I  have  brought  back  something  better 
than  pelts,  uncle,"  Golden  Horn  replied,  al 
most  blushing  to  think  of  the  vainglorious 
speech  he  had  once  intended  to  make  on  his 
return.  ' '  I  have  brought  back  the  luck  of  the 
Montagnais."  And  he  drew  the  golden  horn 
from  his  bosom  and  held  it  aloft. 

A  shout  of  joy  went  up  from  the  tribe  at 
sight  of  the  relic,  and  Golden  Horn  was  over 
whelmed  with  welcomes.  Among  the  fore 
most  to  seize  him  was  his  sister. 

"If  you  hadn't  brought  me  the  rifle,"  he 
said  to  her,  "  this  would  never  have  happened. 
You  shall  have  the  finest  dress  in  the  com 
pany's  warehouse.  I  know  the  one — a  beau 
tiful  pink  calico  with  blue  flowers.  I  have 
often  wanted  it  for  you." 

221 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

The  Hudson  Bay  Company's  storehouse 
held  no  luxury  too  good  or  too  costly  for 
the  feast  that  was  eaten  on  the  Montagnais 
reservation  that  night  in  honor  of  Golden 
Horn,  the  chief. 


FISH-HAWK 

The  Story  of  a  Day's  Fishing 

was  now  the  fourth  day  of  his 
watch,  and  yet  Fish  -  Hawk  had 
not  heard  the  voice  of  Wakanda. 
For  three  mornings  he  had  bathed 
his  sinewy  limbs  in  the  cold,  running  waters 
and  then  applied  the  purest  white  clay,  select 
ed  with  the  utmost  care.  This  was  to  be  the 
last  day  of  his  fast,  and  surely  this  day  the 
Great  Spirit  would  speak  to  him.  Ere  the 
sun  had  risen  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  base 
of  the  bluff  where  flowed  the  crystal  waters 
yet  cold  from  the  melting  of  the  last  snows 
of  spring.  This,  day  he  would  be  especially 
careful  in  his  ablutions. 

"Oh,  waters  of  the  spring-time,  wash  me 
clean,  that  Wakanda  may  look  on  me!     Oh, 
waters  of  the  newly  melted  snow,  make  me 
15  223 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

white  as  your  mother,  that  Wakanda  may  be 
pleased!" 

Praying  thus,  he  plunged  into  the  brook 
until  the  water  covered  him  completely. 
Emerging  on  the  opposite  bank,  he  repeated 
the  prayer,  and  again  dived  beneath  the 
water.  This  he  did  four  times,  and  then, 
running  to  the  falls,  a  short  distance  above 
the  bathing-place,  he  gathered  a  ball  of  the 
wet  white  clay  which  was  to  be  obtained 
from  under  the  shelving  rock.  This  he  dipped 
into  the  stream  and  applied  to  his  body. 

That  done,  he  hurried  up  the  steep  side 
of  the  bluff  to  the  highest  summit,  and  as 
the  sun  was  rising  he  prayed  to  Wakanda. 

"  Wakanda  knows  a  true  man.  Wakanda 
loves  a  brave  man.  Wakanda  turns  his  back 
on  a  coward.  Fish-Hawk  would  be  brave. 
May  Fish-Hawk  never  know  fear.  The  heart 
of  Fish-Hawk  is  blue.  Wakanda  can  make 
it  white.1  Fish-Hawk  would  hear  the  voice 
of  Wakanda.  Then  would  his  heart  be  blue 
no  longer.  There  is  no  fear  to  hear  the 
voice  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Why  is  the  heart 

1  Happy. 
224 


'AS   THE    SUN    WAS   RISING,   FISH-HAWK    PRAYED  TO 
WAKANDA" 


FISH-HAWK 

of  Fish-Hawk  so  blue  ?  Wakanda  knows  all 
things.  Fish-Hawk  would  be  brave  to  catch 
the  fish  for  Wihe.  He  would  ever  fill  her 
lodge  with  plenty.  But  how  may  he  fill  the 
wigwam  of  her  mother's  brother?  For  his 
wigwam  is  great. '  Eagle-Slayer  is  a  great 
chief,  and  Wihe  is  his  sister's  daughter. 
Fish  -  Hawk  would  have  Wihe  for  a  wife. 
Then  would  his  heart  be  white.  Then  would 
he  nevermore  be  lonely.  His  path  shall  never 
be  blue." 

Thus  he  prayed,  long  and  earnestly,  at 
times  erect,  with  his  face  towards  the  sun, 
at  times  seated  against  a  rock  with  his  head 
bowed  almost  to  his  knees,  until  the  sun 
went  down  in  the  evening.  Then  he  arose, 
and  the  light  that  shone  in  his  eyes — was  it 
the  reflected  twilight,  or  had  he  indeed  heard 
the  voice  of  Wakanda  ?  Had  the  Great  Spirit 
communicated  to  him  the  means  whereby  he 
might  satisfy  the  unusual  demand  of  Wihe's 
uncle  that  Fish- Hawk  should  fill  the  chief's 
wigwam  with  fish,  all  taken  in  a  single  day, 
ere  he  should  wed  his  niece,  the  beautiful 
Wihe? 

225 


ADVENTURES  WITH  INDIANS 

At  any  rate,  the  young  brave  descended 
the  bluff  without  any  hesitation.  Near  the 
base  he  caught  sight  of  a  red  blanket  dis 
appearing  into  the  thicket,  and  the  light  of 
his  countenance  was  still  more  joyous.  Love 
now  quickened  the  strength  of  his  limbs, 
and  with  a  few  bounds  he  stood  where  had 
been  the  blanket,  but  he  stood  alone,  for 
the  wearer  of  the  red  had  gone.  Instead, 
on  a  large,  flat  rock  he  found  a  bowi  of  soup, 
a  generous  piece  of  boiled  meat  still  steam 
ing  hot,  a  baked  fish,  a  heap  of  corn,  and  a 
string  of  dried  pumpkin. 

Yes,  Wakanda  had  heard  his  prayer,  and 
Wihe  should  be  his  bride!  In  spite  of  his 
rival,  Lanuhi,  who  boasted  the  slaughter  of 
wolves,  she  of  the  red  blanket,  the  comely 
Wihe,  should  drive  the  blueness  from  his 
lodge  and  clothe  him  over  with  a  white 
house!1  With  such  thoughts  the  ample 
feast  provided  by  the  thoughtful  Wihe  was 
soon  out  of  danger  of  the  crows.  A  drink 
at  the  brook  and  a  bath  in  its  waters,  and 
Fish -Hawk  soon  found  his  deer -skins  and 

1  Indian  expression  meaning  to  make  very  happy. 
226 


FISH-HAWK 

the  restoration  of  slumber  after  his  long 
watching  with  Wakanda  on  the  bluff. 

When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  the  sun 
was  well  up;  but  there  at  his  feet  were  a 
bowl  of  soup,  a  baked  fish,  a  piece  of  dried 
buffalo,  and  some  cakes  of  prepared  acorns; 
and  just  in  the  edge  of  the  thicket  a  glearn 
of  red.  As  he  arose  the  red  suddenly  disap 
peared  into  the  woods,  but  he  had  seen  it, 
and  he  knew  Wakanda  had  respect  for  his 
homage. 

The  soup  and  the  fish  were  soon  disposed 
of;  and,  wrapping  the  bowl,  the  dried  meat, 
and  the  cakes  in  his  blanket,  he  went  direct 
ly  to  the  creek,  where  from  the  shelter  of 
the  copse  he  drew  out  a  canoe,  and  in  this 
he  placed  his  bundle.  In  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe  lay  a  bundle  of  fish-arrows,  a  good 
bow,  and  several  fish-spears  newly  charred. 
There  was  no  glimpse  of  the  red  blanket,  but 
Fish-Hawk  gave  a  low  exclamation  of  satis 
faction  as  he  beheld  these  new  evidences  of 
Wihe's  devotion.  A  hasty  bath  in  the  creek 
— for  Wakanda  loves  not  a  dirty  workman — 
and  Fish- Hawk  had  shoved  off  his  canoe,  and 
227 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

was  paddling  down  the  stream.  That  night 
he  would  bring  his  canoe  filled  with  fish  to 
the  lodge  of  Wihe's  uncle;  for  had  not  the 
spirits  whispered  to  him  that  he  should  fill 
Eagle-Slayer's  lodge  with  fish  so  full  that  he 
might  not  pass  through  the  door  ? 

No  sooner  had  a  bend  in  the  creek  hid 
den  the  canoe  than  a  red  blanket  appeared 
from  the  woods,  covering  the  graceful  form 
of  Wihe,  and  with  her  was  her  brother,  a 
youth  a  year  younger  than  her  lover,  and 
a  great  favorite  of  his.  Squirrel-Leap  was 
his  name,  a  tall  and  graceful  youth  who 
loved  his  sister  dearly,  and  did  not  want  her 
to  marry  Lanuhi — for  Lanuhi  had  lied  to 
him  once.  Soon  the  brother  and  sister  had 
loosed  two  canoes  from  their  secret  moor 
ings  in  the  bushes,  and  had  pushed  out  into 
the  stream.  They,  too,  were  well  provided 
with  fish-arrows  and  spears.  They  knew 
Fish-Hawk's  favorite  places  for  spearing  the 
fish,  so  they  would  have  no  trouble  in  avoid 
ing  him.  Their  intention  was  not  to  dis 
cover  themselves  to  him,  but  to  work  indus 
triously  all  day  in  other  pools,  and  then  at 
228 


FISH-HAWK 

evening  to  add  their  catch  to  his.  With  this 
hope  they  hoped  to  give  him  a  large  catch, 
and  possibly  enable  him  to  win  the  favor  of 
Wihe's  uncle. 

Towards  noon  the  sky  darkened,  and  Wihe 
cast  an  anxious  glance  in  the  direction  of  her 
brother.  It  would  rain,  and  with  the  dis 
turbing  of  the  waters  the  fish  would  be  diffi 
cult  to  see.  As  yet  she  had  speared  but  few 
fish,  and  they  were  none  too  large.  The  big 
fish  lay  deep  in  the  pools,  and  her  spear- 
thrusts  served  only  to  frighten  them  away. 
Her  brother  had  been  somewhat  more  suc 
cessful,  but  the  catch  was  far  from  encourag 
ing.  When  she  saw  the  gathering  clouds, 
therefore,  she  quietly  paddled  to  the  side  of 
her  brother's  canoe.  To  encourage  her — for 
he  saw  the  gloom  in  her  face — he  lifted  his 
largest  fish  from  the  bottom  of  the  canoe; 
and,  indeed,  it  was  a  fine  cat. 

' 'Almost  as  big  as  the  ones  which  Fish- 
Hawk  brings  to  camp,"  he  said,  with  evident 
pride. 

"Yes;  would  that  the  stream  were  crowd 
ed  with  such  fish !  I  would  take  them  in  with 
229 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

my  hands.  I  would  not  hurt  them  with  the 
spear  and  arrows.  How  good  it  would  be 
for  once  to  catch  fish  in  that  way!"  cried 
Wihe. 

Squirrel  -  Leap  laughed  appreciatively. 
"Where  then  would  be  Fish-Hawk's  name 
as  the  best  fisherman  of  the  tribe?  Come; 
we  will  go  down  to  his  pools  and  see  what 
fish  he  has  taken." 

This  pleased  Wihe;  for,  now  that  her 
brother  was  with  her,  she  could  enjoy  Fish- 
Hawk's  company  without  exciting  the  gos 
sips  of  the  camp. 

As  they  approached  their  friend,  to  their 
surprise  they  found  him  seated  on  a  rock 
near  the  water's  edge,  his  head  bent  low, 
intently  watching  the  stream;  but  in  the 
boat  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  buffalo- 
fish.  Then  as  they  came  nearer  he  suddenly 
sprang  up,  and  the  light  of  Wakanda  shone 
in  his  eyes.  She  of  the  red  blanket  could 
have  worshipped  him,  and  her  brother  could 
have  called  him  Nikagahi,  Chief.  Stepping 
lightly  into  his  canoe,  he  bade  them  follow, 
as  he  began  paddling  rapidly  towards  the 
230 


FISH-HAWK 

lake  where  the  creek  ended.     Instinctively 
they  obeyed,  for  was  he  not  a  chief? 

What  was  that  shimmer  near  the  water's 
surface?  A  great  buffalo  -  fish !  Instantly 
Squirrel-Leap  had  dropped  his  paddle  and 
struck  the  fish  with  his  spear,  but  before  he 
could  lift  it  into  the  canoe  another  appeared 
right  at  his  side,  and  he  lifted  that  in  with 
his  hands.  He  looked  up  for  Wihe's  ap 
proval,  but  she  was  busy,  too,  lifting  the 
fish  with  her  hands  even  as  she  had  but  a 
few  minutes  before  wished  without  -hope  to 
do.  Then  he  looked  towards  Fish  -  Hawk, 
but  that  Indian  was  plying  his  paddle  with 
all  his  wonderful  strength,  utterly  regardless 
of  the  myriads  of  shining  backs  about  him. 
Or,  if  he  regarded  them,  it  seemed  as  though 
he  were  in  a  fright  to  flee  from  the  fish. 
Squirrel-Leap  called,  but  he  heard  not,  as 
the  distance  between  them  was  rapidly  in 
creased.  Then  Wihe  called,  and  he  missed 
only  a  stroke  to  shout  back  the  command 
to  follow. 

"See  how  the  muddy  water  grows,"  said 
Wihe,  taking  up  the  paddle  again. 
231 


ADVENTURES   WITH   INDIANS 

"The  creek  is  rising,  for  the  old  stump  is 
no  more  to  be  seen,"  said  Squirrel-Leap, 
pointing  to  where  the  waters  boiled  about  a 
submerged  obstruction. 

By  this  time  Fish-Hawk  had  reached  the 
lake,  and  was  dragging  his  canoe  to  the 
highest  point  of  a  sand-bar  that  lay  opposite 
the  mouth  of  the  creek.  That  done,  he  ran 
to  the  water's  edge,  waded  out  into  the  shal 
lows,  and  began  casting  the  fash  towards  his 
canoe  high  on  the  sand.  There  were  thou 
sands  of  them.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  fish  of 
the  stream,  now  suddenly  grown  to  a  mighty 
river,  were  being  tumbled  over  the  shelving 
slopes  of  the  bar  by  the  rushing  waters. 

In  a  moment  Wihe  and  her  brother  had 
joined  him,  and  were  hard  at  work  casting 
the  fish  into  their  canoes,  which  they  had 
also  beached. 

But  it  was  not  work.  For  the  first  time 
in  Wihe's  experience  she  fished,  and  laughed, 
and  called  it  sport.  And  Squirrel-Leap  for 
the  first  time  thought  it  fun  also  to  take  the 
bass  and  the  buffalo  and  the  cat,  for  the  Ind 
ian  never  hunts  nor  fishes  for  sport. 
232 


FISH-HAWK 

But  the  experiences  of  this  happy  day 
were  not  altogether  new  to  Fish -Hawk. 
Once  before,  while  he  was  yet  a  mere  boy, 
he  chanced  to  be  alone  at  the  mouth  of  a 
creek  much  like  this  one  on  which  his  peo 
ple  were  now  camped,  when  a  sudden  cloud 
burst  a  few  miles  up-stream  had  raised  the 
waters  and  made  them  so  muddy  as  to 
bring  all  the  fish  to  the  surface  for  air,  and 
to  drive  them  far  out  into  the  lake,  where 
they  were  safe  in  pure  water.  On  that  occa 
sion  he  had  filled  his  little  canoe  with  fish 
taken  by  his  hands  in  the  shallows  of  a  reed- 
covered  sand-bar. 

When  he  brought  his  load  of  fish  to  camp 
that  day  his  Indian  instinct  for  glory  and 
brave  deeds  forbade  his  revealing  the  true 
method  of  his  wonderful  catch,  and  ever 
after  he  was  known  among  his  people  as 
Fish-Hawk. 

Now  Wihe  knew  and  Squirrel-Leap  com 
prehended  the  "  wonderful  pool,"  but  they 
did  not  stop  to  think  about  it  until  the  three 
canoes  would  not  hold  another  fin. 

What  though  the  skies  were  dark,  and  the 
233 


ADVENTURES  WITH   INDIANS 

rain  poured  in  torrents,  and  the  early  spring 
thunder  pealed  along  the  heavens?  They 
were  Indians,  and  felt  nothing.  But  their 
hearts  were  human,  and  there  was  no  shadow 
there,  for  Eagle-Slayer  was  a  great  chief, 
and  he  would  keep  his  word  when  the  fish 
filled  his  wigwam ;  and  on  the  morrow  there 
would  be  much  feasting  in  his  camp. 


THE    END 


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